What Binds Us
by Jaxon666
Summary: Virtual season five premiere episode. Sydney learns a lot of things she'd rather not about the man she loves, which leads her into the arms of a man she resents. Sydney/Sark, other characters involved in parts. Full summary available in published chapter


Title: What Binds Us

Type: Adult het, unconventional pairing, alternative episode

Rating: NC-17

Fandom: Alias

Pairing/s: Sydney/Sark

Episode Setting: Season Five Premiere (alternative)

Word Count: 26170

Summary: After the shock Sydney had been subjected to in the final scene of the Season Four finale (Before the Flood), she then wakes up elsewhere, no longer in Santa Barbara, in sole custody of none other than the long time bane of her existence Julian Sark. With so many questions still unanswered, and so many more things now unexplained, will a foe become a friend, or was he always a friend in the first place...or maybe even more.

Warnings: Spoilerish to those who have not followed the Alias series up until the point of the Season Five Premiere (Prophet 5), so if you don't like spoilers, turn away now. Remember to treat this fic as an episode which is intended to replace the Season Five Premiere. This fic is not a spiteful excuse for smut, so unless you like realistic sexual encounters that occur organically between large occurrences of storyline and platonic events then please turn away now. Does get very heated in parts so if swearing and/or descriptive accounts of sexual intercourse offend you, please do not read. Also I'm not sure that avid fans of the show in general would appreciate some elements of the storyline that do not involve Sydney and Sark's pairing, although anyone who is interested in Sydney/Sark may be able to enjoy most of the fic.

Disclaimer: Don't own Alias or the characters, just like writing about it and them.

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Sydney opened her eyes, a sense of grogginess overcoming her body. Where was she? How did she get here? She took a deep breath, as memories flooded her. Michael...he wasn't who he appeared to have been...

Sydney took a steadying breath, as the reality of his words hit her, even in her groggy state. There was no Michael Vaughn. The man she loved was a mirage, an image...he didn't exist. Her whole world was a lie. How had she fallen for it again? Didn't she learn anything from Sloane and SD-6? She shook her head, and tried to sit up.

Something kept her bound to a table. She looked at her arms, and saw the leather straps that kept her bound. What the hell was going on? She fought to free herself from them, but her energy was already spent. She sighed, and laid down.

What was next?

The door to her prison opened, and she turned, in apprehension and an adrenaline rush. Once Sydney was free, whoever had tied her down would live to regret it. She saw a figure walk through the door, and narrowed her eyes in anger.

It figures...who else would go to such lengths to capture me?

As Sark approached Sydney, and set to release her from the very restraints he'd bound her with, his ice-likened eyes never left her even once, and a mixed look of sincerity and solidarity stole the plane of his face. There was something about him though, something different, not that he has changed, he was still very much Julian Sark and everything Sydney had learnt about him and from him was no less true, but an atmosphere of uncertainty filled the room as he graced it with his presence. It was as though suddenly it had become clear somehow that Sark was no longer guarding anything from Sydney, which in itself would be even more unsettling to Sydney, on top of what she had already gone through before her recent awakening.

"Sydney..." Sark took a moment to pause, his penetrative eyes harshly pleading with Sydney not to respond violently to him, like some sort of unspoken but critically heard form of language, "...I understand that what you have just gone through was not an experience you of all people would find enjoyable...and I realise that our interactions in the past have helped you to build a sturdy and untrustworthy psychological profile of my good self...but you know me Sydney...even if you hate that fact, you do...very well...and not only do you know that I am a man of my word when it comes to you...you also know that for some unexplained reason, it has never been my intention or desire to hurt you." Sark delivered that mouthful perfectly, so perfect it seemed rehearsed but then it so obviously never was. The brilliance of Sark's mind, and the fact that he always knew exactly what he meant to say, and above all else meant what he said, made for him to be quite the communicator.

"By the time we had gotten to you, me and my men could only manage to rescue one, and given the stakes at hand and the skills needed to attempt the rescue of the other to your party, you seemed to be the better option. However...now it is just me and you. I sent the rest of my men into an ambush lead by the opposition, in an effort to influence our enemy into believing that no more will come." The air was buzzing with intense dramatic energy, mirrored in mood by Sark's fast-paced, constant delivery of hardcore information in Sydney's current confused and bewildered state. It became apparent at this point, that there was no time to lose, which meant no matter what almost impossible field task was at hand, there was a lot of figuring out to do in a very condensed and chaotic space of time.

"Sydney? Why are you looking at me like that?" For once, even given Sark's past loyalty to Sydney, he ebbed with a warmth...a cold brand of warmth of course since this was Sark, but it was unnaturally settling, not calculated in the slightest, but instead...true. Could this be the first time that Sydney has been face to face with the real Sark? But then the true question was 'what screen was in the way of that before' and it was more than obvious that everything questionable that had lead to this point in time, was related.

She glared at him, her eyes cold and emotionless. "If you think that I would be fool enough to trust you, Sark, just because you once kept your word, you are deluding yourself." Sydney sat up, as her restraints were lifted, and jumped to her feet, careful to keep a safe distance between herself and Sark.

"I know you, Sark. Never forget that. I know how you attempted to use my mother to gain my confidence, I know that you were an instrumental of SD-6..the very organization I destroyed...and I know that no matter what words flow from your mouth, you are not to be trusted. A man of your word? One instance does not a lifetime undo, Sark."

Sydney took a deep breath, as she searched his face, looking for the slightest hint of a weakness. "So, what now? What do you want from me? My trust, my compliance? Well, I will die before I give you that...so what is next in your plan?"

She saw the indecision in his eyes, and relished in it. He had created this situation for a purpose, and Sydney would learn that purpose before she gave him an inch. She could never trust him...not Julian. There was too much at stake.

At the first of Sydney's responses to him, Sark's eyes lit up, and he almost smiled, which was quite visible, like a smile possessing lips that refused to be possessed. Sark's expression then returned to his usual smouldering yet vague grimace.

"In terms of knowledge, Miss Bristow, we are in agreement. You know a lot. In an addition to that which we agree upon, and with no intent to blacken my high opinion of you, I am inclined to tell you of that which you do not know. I never used your mother Sydney, far from it. The woman has been a mother to me for the longest time...how else do you think I became so brilliant? And how else exactly do you assume that we have been the only members of a syndicate made up of known terrorists, to not only escape with our lives but also with our freedom, a fate even Sloane has not faired so well in befalling...much to our merit." Sark took a moment to look at Sydney, he was looking for understanding in her, but he knew at this point she was not going to be comfortable with any of what she was about to learn. He kept his distance and made it obvious to her he was not going to push the walls of her comfort zone.

"For years we have worked together, your mother and I. Have we broken laws? Yes. Have people died at our hands? Yes. Did we assist Sloane in the operations of SD-6? Yes. But it has all been for a reason Sydney, and the journey is far from over." Sark began to offer more truth, which maybe Sydney's heart had needed to hear for such a long time, a truth which would free her mother from the regret and contempt Sydney woefully carried for her. "Your mother is not now nor has she ever been a follower of Rambaldi, Sydney...she has always strove to stop it, and anything relating to it that might cause the world further strife, and she is not alone. But then I suspect one such as yourself always knew that there was a reason for it all, didn't you? That is why you allowed yourself to love her. We both know you would never have done that if you believed that your mother was as despicable a person as the world judges her to be." Sark's charismatic blend of aggressive sincerity was intoxicating, and beneath all the hatred Sydney had for him, even she would sense that he did care for her, whether or not she'd like to admit it or accept it as something harmless.

"There is more you need to know, and I'm sure you have many questions, all of which I will answer if I'm able. Sydney...you know my regard for you is much higher than to assume you will comply to me like a mindless submissive. I saved your life because I believe the world is a better place with you in it, and I did so selflessly and you will realise exactly how much I sacrificed for you in due course. I am here now because somebody important to us both is in danger, and it is up to us to save him. There is nobody else. If there were any other option, you would be aware of it by now." After that speech, Sark loaded an automatic handgun with ammunition in a quick, sharp motion, and threw it over to Sydney so that she may claim it. He did not feel the need to keep his eyes on her, or his hand near his gun.

"You know, in spite of everything I've worked toward and that I believe will ultimately save this world from ultimate plight...part of that being that you could not know you were being deceived until this point...a large portion of me hoped that you'd figure all of this out by yourself, or at least some small part. Then again...I would rather you blame someone other than yourself for your heart being broken. I may be all that's available but I am the best you will get on such short notice." After some more genuine expressions. he attempted a joke to form a bridge over the icy path between he and Sydney. Sark's words were riddled with energised sparks of confusion as they fell upon Sydney's ears, and although he knew that most, if not all, of what he had said to her in the last five minutes would not be things she would react to well, there was no longer a need for him to strategically choose his words to her, and for that he was thankful, auding a clear sigh of relief.

Sydney, leaned down to pick up the gun, apprehension in her every move. She expected him to round kick her in the head, and was somewhat surprised when he didn't, but just stood there, arming her. "Why would I go to you for answers, anyway? Its not like I exactly trust you, or care about your opinion on my life, and how I feel. If I want answers, I'll get them. But I wont be going to you for them, you can stake your life on that."

She looked at Sark, angry, attempting to hide the pain of Vaughn's betrayal, as he carelessly spoke of the man she loved. She shook her head as she looked over at him. "What do you know of my heart, or of love for that matter? You will only ever care for yourself, and we both know it, so lets stop the pretence right now." She spat.

He began to laugh, while Sydney fought the urge to slap him. "You can hide behind your lame excuses and false bravado, but deep down, I know the real you, and we both know it, so please, spare me your excuses, and your attempts at understanding. Hell, you probably have a makeshift altar to Lauren in your bedroom closet. Eats you up, doesn't it, Sark?"

"I see you're taking the sudden rationale revolving around your most immediate situation quite well." Sark said smoulderingly, through a mockingly attractive and subtle smile, as Sydney continued to assault him with words.

"On the contrary my dear, she was a means to an end and nothing more, we both knew that, and I am quite certain that when you're face to face with him again you will want to ask him. To which of course, he will give you the same explanation I just did...although perhaps in a less stylish use of tongue and guile." Although Sark was gladly humbled by the fact that now he no longer had to withhold information from Sydney or aim to deceive her in the slightest, which ultimately was to him a gift he'd craved for since the moment he first met her due to this allowing him to prove to her exactly what he feels for her, he was never going to be a pussy cat. Sark would always be Sark, a breed apart from any other man that Sydney or the rest of the world knew, and with his most recent statements and use of blatantly rattling yet addictive attitude, he reminded all present just that.

"Why is it that you are so angry with me Miss Bristow? I am not the creator of the truth, just the messenger. Perhaps you have taken me up on my offer after all. I thought you'd promised not to comply?" His tone was dry and the look on his face inimitably delicious and obnoxious.

"To be honest Sydney, I am quite disappointed. Even given the disgruntled state of mind I'm quite sure you're in, you have not once picked up on any of the very important hints I've cleverly laced into my sentences. It seems you have a touch of Reverse Pandora's Box complex. Then again given your unfortunate track record with such boxes, I can understand your reluctance to open this one. By the way...you are positively scintillating when you're vexed, do you know that?" Sark took this moment to lean his back against the white, stone wall behind him, his arms folded loosely, one foot prepped against the wall behind him, the other firmly grounded on the floor beneath him, and his devilish grin beaming towards Sydney, just demanding attention from her every molecule.

She glared at him again, fighting the urge to ask him for the answers she so desperately wanted, while hating him for all that he represented...her downfall. "You are so smug, do you know that? Too smug." She walked towards him, placing the gun in the holster on her hip as she looked at him.

"Why am I angry with you? When have I ever been anything but angry with you? You claim to be trustworthy, yet your every action negates that statement. So, why now? Why should I believe anything you tell me? Is it because all of a sudden Michael is as corrupt as you seem to be?"

She sighed, raking a hand through her hair. "You want my compliance...alright, I'll bite. But first, I want the answers to some very basic questions, Julian."

She saw his eyes light up, and narrowed her gaze as she approached him. "For starters, why don't you tell me just what your relationship with my mother is."

Glad that Sydney was starting to compromise, which was a gift she rarely gave out and so this boosted his ego quite nicely, Sark's brow warmly welcomed her newly assumed state of cooperation.

"The answer to your question is simply this; until now you have not asked me what my relationship with your mother is. However since you have hinted that you would like to know, your mother, salvaged what little soul I had left when she found me half dead, and corrupt, as you believe me to be now. I was fast on my way to becoming something similar to what our good friend Arvin Sloane is...in fact, given my brilliance at that young age probably something much worse. Since that time, your mother took me under her wing, and taught me everything I now know, but as I'm sure you're aware that is far from everything she knows. From that point forward we have worked together with a number of few others to destroy the workings of those who vow to poison this world with Rambaldi's teachings. In more simpler terms, my relationship with your mother is platonic...healthy and above all else one forged out of loyalty. Does that answer your first question?" Sark asked sincerely but with a trace of sarcasm just like everything else he said, believing that he had provided Sydney with more than enough information to satisfy her.

"And for second course?"

"I must say, that I find it SO comforting to know that my mother was so willing to take you under her wing, when she rejected her own husband and daughter. Deserting them without a glance, and not looking back. That is commendable. Really." She replied while rolling her eyes.

She sighed as she looked at the man standing in front of her. Did he really believe that she would believe his trite explanation? That somehow that admission would erase the past? "Are you actually standing there, implying to me, that you are no worse than Arvin Sloane? Lets not try to kid each other here, Sark. You aspire to be him! Wrap it up in all the noble sentiments you want, but that is the truth, and you know it. You are a younger version of Sloane, but lacking the soul he was crippled with at your age. Because he did have a heart once. You never have. Never. And you talk of Rambaldi, when you are one of the worlds greatest fanatics of that madman? Let me ask you something, Sark. If the prophecy had come true...if Nadia had killed me, would you be mourning my death right now, or see it as one less obstacle to stand in your way?"

She shook her head as she looked at him. "I think we both know the answer to that question, don't we?"

"I know one of us does, the other I'm having my doubts about. And for the record, the prophecy did come to pass, Sydney. It stated that when the two of you came to battle, one of you would die. At the time you both came to battle, Nadia was already dead, technically, unless it is your fundamental belief that zombies behold the wonders of Zen as a lifestyle choice." He couldn't help himself, he had to know it all, and he had to be sexily sarcastic. Exactly how fuckable does Sark want to be? Perhaps there is no numerical figure to capture that answer.

"You're having trouble accepting the facts. Your mother has not been the woman you quite rightfully hate, for a very long time, and she regrets that she had to keep herself from letting you know that until recently...but it was all necessary Sydney...I know that doesn't make it fair." At this point Sark had the dire urge to take Sydney in his arms and hold her close, feel her strong, beautiful hair against the roughened palms of his snowy white hands...but in an attempt to keep his ligaments attached to their rightful sockets, he chose not to.

"Since knowing Irena, I have never liked, nor wanted to be anything like Sloane. Deny it now if you will, but you will inevitably come to learn otherwise, and I know more than anyone how you hate to admit you have been wrong...still...your choice. Sloane had to believe we were one of his own, just like you and your father had to believe your mother was a heartless murderer with no regard for her family, and my portrayed role has been just as much an act. We are not fanatics of Rambaldi just as much as you are not a fanatic of having your life dismantled and put back together again by sadists...but all of us appear attract certain circumstances, now don't we?" Sark was a dark magician with his words, he was capable of manipulating his way out of a steel box with that cunning tongue of his, and although he spoke only the truth to Sydney now, he made admirable use of his linguistic talents in justifying himself to her.

"And to think that I of all people would splendour to any degree in the event of your death is despicable. I know you just as much as you know me Sydney, and we both know you are not that bad a judge of character." That was Sark's way of apologizing to Sydney for not writing a declaration of his violent attraction to her on his forehead, upon and since the day he met her.

Sydney shook her head as she looked at him, wanting to slap him. "You're attempts at placating me are a waste of time, Sark. No matter what you say about my mother, she abandoned me, more than once. So, don't sing her praises as if she is an icon to be worshipped, she isn't. I took a chance, and trusted her once. And she betrayed me, yet again. You have no idea what her abandonment did to my father and I. How it scarred us. What it was like to grow up knowing that your own mother didn't even want you. She is a hateful woman, and nothing you can say will make me think differently. You act as if it was some kind of role she perfected. Give me a break. Abandoning your own child is not a role, it is simple fact. Nadia was lucky to have not known her, to not know what I do. I would have rather died as a child than to have endured all that I have, because of her."

She arched an eyebrow as she looked at him. "You're right, Sark. I am a good judge of character, which is why I never trusted you." In a split second, she removed the gun from its holster, and aimed it at Sark. "So, give me one good reason not to shoot you, and make the world a happier place."

"I would never claim to understand what it must have been like for you...but I will disagree with you simply because knowing what I know causes me to. Even acts of pretence can have harsh after effects Sydney, but the reasons behind such acts and pretences should be taken into account. You were never abandoned out of spite...far from it. However, I will respectfully leave your issues with your mother, between you and her." Sark had no intention to argue with Sydney, besides, she was entitled to her perspective and opinion, she had suffered because of Irena's actions no matter what they were for, so she deserved that much.

Sark smirked without the slightest expression of nervousness, as Sydney raised the gun in direction of his head. "Sydney. We both know that you are not the type of honourless person who would lower herself enough to shoot somebody with a gun they just freely gave to her, without hesitation...especially given my value to you now, with all the countless questions you can't wait to be answered...not that I'd ever expect you to admit that I have value to you. That's one of the reasons I admire you so much...persistent little thing that you are." Taking a pause to take out a bottle of water from the inside pocket of his black jacket, Sark closed his eyes to take a few sips and then returned his gaze to Sydney.

"Besides...if you truly believe everything you have ever said with regards to me, then how can you trust that gun is even loaded? And how can you trust that the weapon you hold in your hands, is built to harm anyone but yourself. Of course, if you were to fire, a bullet would be sent at a high speed through my skull and brain, killing me quite instantly...but my point is...you won't shoot me Miss Bristow. I am capable of being very calculating, do you think I would make it possible for you to kill me? I mean really...we haven't even had lunch yet." Given the seriousness of the situation, Sark seemed to be delighted, exhibiting a playful, almost jovial nature while held at gunpoint, but then Sydney's gunpoint was a very desirable place to be, to him.

Sydney looked at him, not quite sure how to respond. 'We haven't even had lunch yet?' Who said that when you had a gun aimed at their head. Only Julian Sark. If she weren't so angry, and didn't hate him, she would have laughed at the absurdity of that statement. But she did hate him, and she would never forget that.

She lowered the gun, putting it away, without taking her gaze off of him. "You're right, Sark. I wont kill you. At least not yet. First, I want to see you suffer." Without a second thought, she lifted her leg swiftly, kicking him in the groin. She smiled to herself, as he knelt to the floor cupping himself as he groaned. "Not so cocky now, are we?" She sneered as she lifted him by his collar and pressed him against the wall.

"Now, we are going to dispense with the formalities, and you are going to tell me exactly why you drugged me, what the hell I am doing here, and then you are going to let me go. If not..." she shrugged. "Well, then things will get really ugly."

She smiled at him, coldly, the smile not reaching her eyes. "So what will it be, Julian? Will you talk, or will we have a little fun here...or let me rephrase that. Will I have some fun, kicking your ass from one corner of this room to the next." She titled her head, waiting for his answer. "So, what will it be?"

In answer to her question, Sark simply said "Dazzling attitude you have Miss Bristow. It really is quite something." And smiled, almost seeming to enjoy the pain Sydney just caused to his wedding endowments.

"I hate to break this to you Sydney but your current mental state, which might I add is irrational although titillatingly tedious, is a result of nothing more than your dogmatic characteristics. Think back Sydney, you have read the case files...I'm not a man who drugs his prey...it takes off the edge. And when will you begin listening? YOU my dear are NOT a VICTIM here, at least not with regards to me. So I suggest you overcome your sentimental pride, and accept my help in rescuing the man you until recently, loved with all of your heart. If anything, I'm certain you'd like to ask him some questions, or indeed kill him yourself."

Sark stood up and dusted himself off, hardly feeling the pain throbbing in his groin any more, did Sydney hold back purposely, or did Sark just have balls of steel? Maybe a little of both. His glances returned to their more usual cocksure, intrusive blends.

"Are we quite done distracting ourselves from what is really going on here Miss Bristow?" Apart from being a renowned terrorist, Sark was also an expert psychoanalyst, and Sydney was smart enough to know that. The question was whether or not she trusted him now, regardless of if she was prepared to admit it.

Idolize her though he might, Sark was fast growing tired of babying Sydney through this ordeal, and part of him rolled it's eyes at her, because he expected she would have come to terms with the most part of this situation for what it really was, by now. Then, almost in a 'saved by the bell' moment, Sark's mobile phone rang.

"Excuse me for a second won't you?" He politely requested of Sydney as he slid out his cell phone from one of the inside pockets of his jacket, and answered it. As the voice on the other end of the phone spoke to him, his eyes gently drifted over to Sydney's direction, as he said, "Ah Irena...yes...she is standing in front of me right now. And you were right...she's not taking any of it very well."

Sydney glared at Sark while he talked on the phone, fighting the urge to wrench it from his hands, and destroy it. The way her mother had destroyed her. All those moment of what she saw as sincerity, as a need to know her daughter had proved to be false. And here was her enemy, who was closer to Irena than Sydney ever could be, Irena's confidante, and ally. And he expected her to trust him? She would be insane to do so. Certifiably so.

She turned her back on him, and walked away, to the far end of the room. And what of Michael? The man she loved...the man who claimed to love her, but was now her enemy. How would she deal with him? What would happen when they came face to face, on opposite sides? Would she be able to kill him? Sydney closed her eyes, fighting the pain that coursed through her veins. I never knew it would hurt this much... she thought to herself. Even losing Danny didn't hurt this much. She felt herself crumbling inside. Her faith in humanity withering away with every second that passed. What would she do now?

She turned to Sark, as he put his phone away. "So tell me something. Why would I join forces with you? Why would I align myself with you to get Michael? I don't need your help, to see this done."

After finishing his conversation with Irena, Sydney having paced the length of the room to detach herself from said phone call, Sark returned his attention to Sydney. Such a beautiful creature...amazing He thought to himself, his eyes peering out at her with no negative motive. He loved her for how she went through this, again and again and again, and still managed to be such...a woman, so strong...everything he wanted and more.

"On the contrary my dear, you will find that you do in fact need me, and me alone, to get this done. And we can stop calling him Michael now...and start calling him by his real name. You see Sydney, the reason you can trust me in this event if no other, is because the man you can't bare to lose, regardless of his deception to you, is also quite important to me. You see Sydney, the name of that very man is Nikolai...Nikolai Sark...also an ally of your mother." Julian gave Sydney a moment to absorb this information, and he expected her to try and reject it.

"This shouldn't come as gargantuan shock...just think how well we conflicted together...only brothers can pull off an act like that with such perfection, without anybody questioning it's authenticity." He explained.

"Anyway, your mother sends her regards...and she also provided me with intel. The people who have my brother do not suspect that anyone will be coming to save him from his impending doom. They believe you were not in the car with him at the time of the incident, Irena made that belief possible. In any case, they will be shipping him to America aboard the luggage carriage of flight 639, which will be departing within the next three hours. Given the information provided, and our combined efforts, I do not see how the task at hand could be too difficult for us. But be very cautious Miss Bristow, these people are dangerous, and more corrupt than you ever believed your mother, Sloane and I to be. And it is imperative, if you wish to have any fighting chance of a life after this, that they do not see your face." Mystery surrounded a lot of what Sark advised Sydney on, but answers were there to be found if only they were sought out.

Nikolai? Not Michael Vaughn...but Nikolai Sark...

Sydney stood still rooted to the ground. How was that possible? How could she not have seen the truth beneath his veneer? How could she have been so gullible? She lived in a world of false fronts, a world of conspiracy and deception. Yet the one she trusted above all others was the enemy. An enemy she had to smite out. But at what cost? Her heart?

Sydney took a deep breath and looked over at Sark, who was beginning to look more and more like her ally with every passing moment. "A man of my word" he had once said to her. Was he really? Was he too be trusted? Or was he like all the others? With a hidden agenda, and a false veneer? Only time would tell.

She listened silently as he told her the intel. She looked down, not knowing what or who to believe anymore. Her sister was zombie...her father...was, Jack Bristow...her lover...a traitor. Who was there left to trust?

Why did she have to cover her face? Her aliases had always been enough before, yet here was this man, her mother's protégé, who was telling her things to protect her. But why? What ulterior motive was he serving? She would have to pretend to trust him to find out the truth behind that question.

She looked up at him, and took a deep, steadying breath. "When do we leave...and why do I have to cover my face?"

As Sydney spoke to him, she would notice Sark staring out of a small window in the room of the warehouse. It soon became apparent why, as the sound of a van pulling up filled the air subtly, and Sark responded to it. If she were to look out the window she would see her mother leaving the building from a floor beneath them, and taking off in a car. Sark held a knowing gaze with Irena for a moment before she left. Without distracting Sydney with this information, he glanced at her once more, and ironically he gave off a positive vibe, like he saw the light at the end of the tunnel here somehow.

"It seems our transport has already arrived." He informed her, taking a step towards her, but not too close, he knew he wasn't quite where he'd like to be with her yet, but he was getting there. "The people we are about to oppose may not see your face under any circumstance. If they were to, then you would find yourself praying not to have a future, given the alternative they would give you. I tell you this now, and only now, because you must know this beforehand...otherwise it may come as too great a shock. These people may be familiar to you Sydney, because you know them. You have worked with them under the false pretence that they have been working alongside you for the safety of your country. They already know who I am and the threat I pose to them, and as I'm sure you are aware, now that they know of my brother's involvement and identity, we can not afford to let any of them live. If any of them survive, then the rest of their number will learn of this, and it has all been for nothing. Everyone will die Sydney. Your father, Irena, you, my brother, Nadia, everyone. We are all a part of this more than you know...it will only make sense to you as time passes."

Sark gestured to Sydney to exit as he started calmly pacing down the corridor of the empty warehouse, his footsteps echoing slightly as he lay them on the ground. Within moments, he had taken to the stairwell.

She shook her head, baffled by what he knew, and wasn't sharing with her. He wanted her trust, her confidence, but too much of the past still lingered for her to ever fully trust him. And Michael...his brother...that betrayal was still too new, too raw for her to even think about.

She sighed, as she followed him to a stairwell, and down its dark corridor. She knew that something big was about to take place. But what was it?

The reached a door, and he held it open for her as she stepped through it warily. Every nerve in her body screamed for her to run, to get far away from him, from all of this. But she craved answers...needed them more than she needed air at that point. She closed her eyes, taking a steadying breath before turning to him, her mind taking over.

"Alright Sark, where are we going? And do I need that little cover up now, or later? I'm not taking another step until you tell me that."

Approaching the van with Sydney, Sark opened the back doors to it, and climbed in, smirking slightly about two things, the first being that he was about to go on a mission, and the second being that he was about to get unclothed and then clothed again in the same vicinity as Sydney.

"First we will be boarding the plane incognito. Fortunately flight 639 was to be piloted by Daniel and Melinda Harris...and as far as everybody else knows, it still will." The doors to the van now shut, and the driver starting the ignition, Sark tossed over a large black bag to Sydney. "You'll find everything you need in here." And almost as soon as that sentence was finished, the upper half of Sark's body was completely bare. His skin was soft, light and tender like snow become flesh, and although he was undoubtedly slender, his musculature was more toned than one would expect. It was odd but somehow seeing Sark in the flesh like this made others think how warm he must feel to the touch, in spite of looking like he'd feel cold.

"And I hate to break it to you..." Sark said, seeming very pleased with himself, as he toyed with his own kit bag and fumbled through it for his disguise clothes, semi-naked, "...but Mr and Mrs Harris are, as their mutually shared surname suggests, married. If we are to make it aboard the plane without being suspected, then we must remember that." Julian pulled his arms through the shirt he had to don for part of his disguise and began buttoning it with a notable amount of care, and an even more notable amount of time taken, the centre of his naked torso regretfully becoming less and less visible.

"You won't need to conceal your face until we are in the cockpit." He almost sniggered at the fact he'd just said the word 'cockpit' in front of Sydney. "So tell me Miss Bristow...has your hate for me stayed consistent in size or has it escalated?"

She rolled her eyes, at his comment. "I assure you, Sark, that it didn't have very far to go." She replied sarcastically as she looked at him.

Why was he changing in front of her? Did he want to see her unhinged? Well, if that were the case, he would be in for a surprise. So, we were to pretend to be husband and wife? She chuckled to herself. Well, she would give the performance of her life if it meant getting the answers she wanted...if it meant getting close enough for him to reveal everything to her.

She looked at him, and smiled. "So, husband and wife, is it?" She looked at his bared chest, and smiled. "I have often wondered, Julian...exactly what it was about you that had Lauren so enthralled..." she whispered as she lifted a hand to his exposed chest, running a cool hand down its smooth surface. "I mean, she did betray Michael...oh, I'm sorry...Nikolai, to be with you. I've always wondered why..." she whispered.

"To respond to your curiosities as frankly as I'd like, would only get me into further trouble Miss Bristow..." Sark lit up the atmosphere with the dirtiest, most devourable smile imaginable, it would even make the inhabitants of Hell themselves blush, "...but let's just say that everything I have is a vehicle for my passion...and I have a lot on both counts." More than anything, Sark wished he could just tell her how much he wanted to fuck her rugged right now, but the results of which would not be productive...yet.

"You should know, Lauren often wondered the same thing...what it was about you that had me so taken. I suppose she never truly looked at you...how else could she not know the answer?" Despite the borderline sarcastic tone Sark always used and was using now, that was undoubtedly a come on. Yes, Sark was flirting with Sydney, finally, and he was enjoying it.

By this time, Sark had one of his legs inside a new pair of black trousers, and was about to put his other leg through, stand up and pull the trousers up to his waist.

She smiled at the idea of Lauren being jealous of her. The notion was ridiculous. This evil woman, this traitor to her country, had manipulated her way into the life of the man she had loved, and forced her out of it. She had taken, what by right, should have belonged to Sydney herself, and yet she was jealous of her? It was preposterous.

Sydney found herself momentarily softening to Sark, through his nonchalant manner, and grinned. She looked at him, and stepped on the bottom hem of his pants, making it impossible for him to put them on.

She took a deep breath, and cocked her head as she looked at him. It was his nonchalant manner that appealed to her. He loved no one but himself, and his own agenda, and they both knew it. His flirtatious manner with her, the way he had always looked at her made her feel wanted, even if she knew it was just a means to an end.

They looked at each other, the moment suspended. Two powerful forces, that forever clashed, and she smiled at him. "I wonder...what it is that you really want...what it is that you are truly after. Because this mission of yours, while intriguing, is still just a means to an end. Just what is that end, Sark?"

Sark raised a very pleased eyebrow, throwing Sydney a dashing look of enthusiasm at the naughtiness of Sydney stepping on the other leg to his trousers, and preventing him from putting them on. The suggestion here was that she didn't want him clothed. Sark very much approved of that suggestion.

"Miss Bristow...why you little minx.", said a mildly excited Sark through sparkling eyes of intrigue, "Like I have told you before Sydney, I have never, nor will I ever be, your enemy. I aim to combine my efforts with you in order to rescue my brother, nothing more, and after this is over you will know that and much more. However...if you are asking me to reveal to you what my endgame would be if I had one...then in all honesty...I would have to tell you that you are my endgame Sydney...knowing you, being with you, and above all else having you."

Sark cocked his head to the side a little and eyed Sydney seriously. "Funny...you don't look as repulsed as I'd have expected." He said, before snapping his trouser leg from beneath the grasp of Sydney's previously sturdy foot. He then pulled the trousers up over his other leg and by the pinching sensation around his crotch, he became instantly aware of his semi-on. This made him smile...any interactions with Sydney that became sordid to some degree, were bound to. He then turned away from Sydney for a moment to pick up the jacket, one of the final items of clothing for his disguise.

She jumped unexpectently, as Sark grabbed his pants, temporarily setting her off balance. His words were effecting her...which was definitely not a good thing. This was Julian Sark, not a trusted confidante and ally.

His endgame is me? Since when? It had always been Lauren for him...I was always just an annoyance that had stood between him and his final goal. Had that goal changed with her death? Was this his version of sweet revenge?

She shook her head, refusing to ponder the questions that were plaguing her mind.

She smiled up at him, momentarily forcing all her doubts away. "Why should I be repulsed, Julian? I'm a woman, you're a man. What's there to be repulsed about?" Unless of course, you thought about the ice hard coldness that lie simmering, just beneath the surface of his veneer.

"I too am certain of our respectful sexes...I was merely touching upon what I believe to be quite obvious. You are far from my biggest fan...a fact that sweatshop workers in Afghanistan are sure to know...and as far as your opinion of me goes, it is hard to imagine that I bring forth anything but repulsive thoughts to your mind. Perhaps I am wrong to think so...or perhaps you do not express what you really feel. Either way, you're making me blush in places I didn't know were possible." Sark said, donning the black pilot's hat and patent leather shoes, beginning to tie them, and in effect completing his disguise. He then sat back relaxed, opposite from Sydney, he was closer to her than he had been previously, he was gradually gaining distance into her comfort zone.

His eyes enchantingly shone over her like sunlight beautifying a glacier plane. You are so fucking beautiful Ms Bristow he thought to himself, fighting back the urge to lick his lips. The way her silky hair softly hung and lightly drifted side to side as she moved, the way her eyes touched things gracefully and with respect, the way her lips could sometimes appear bee-stung and others as relaxed and soft as velvet...it was too much for him to ever ignore. In fact, Sark was an avid lover of all of these qualities Sydney had the fortune of owning. "You are the most beautiful thing I've seen...outside and in. Surely you know must know that." Sark spoke softly, like a warm, gentle breeze on a Winter's day.

She lifted an eyebrow in response to his flattery. Part of her was always on guard when around him, almost as if it were a necessity, like air. That part of her couldn't...wouldn't trust him, no matter the enticement.

But another part of her yearned for it. Wanted to believe his every word. She closed her eyes, and thought back to their last meeting...Sydney! I'm a man of my word!. She didn't believe him back then...had thought he was out to save himself, no matter the cost. But what about now? Could she trust him? Had he been telling the truth all along, but she was just too blind to see it? She shuddered as the truth of her thoughts hit her. If Sark was being honest, was being a man of his word, as he swore that he was...than everything she had believed was a lie. And not only Michael...Nikolai...but all of it. All of it, starting with her parents, had been a deception. And she had played the perfect fool.

Could she trust him? Dare she? Considering what was at stake is she was wrong? She turned to look at him, sadness and uncertainty in her eyes. "If that is the truth Sark, like you say that it is. Then tell me one thing."

She took a deep breath, as she turned to him. "Tell me about Allison. Why Francie, Julian? Why my best friend?"

"That matter was completely out of my hands, or are you forgetting that at the time of which you mention I was not only forced out of an 80 billion dollar inheritance by The Covenant, but also not given much of an option with regards to working for them. It was The Covenant who had Francie killed and cloned, as well as it was them who breathed life into Julia Thorne. None of that had anything to do with me, that was all planned before my involvement with them, which by the way was also just another opportunity to further my own true goals." Although he spoke the truth, Sark did regret having to stand by and watch all of this happen to Sydney, when he'd sooner thwart it and take that pain away from her. He rested one of his steady, attractive hands in a devilishly enjoyable touch, upon one of Sydney's bare shoulders. "Look into my eyes Sydney...do you not see that I am sorry for all that you have lost?"

You could see the timeless regret for everything bad that had happened to Sydney bubbling and simmering behind the soulfulness of Sark's eyes. There was no question that he loved Sydney, in some small way she must have always known that, he couldn't have made it more obvious. But now, around that fact, facets of intention, feeling and reason began to form, shedding new light on the place Sark's devotion to her came from, and forcing Sydney to start realising exactly what that meant to both him and her.

"Sydney I...", Sark was finding it hard to find his words, maybe because he was choked, or maybe because being this close to Sydney and finally getting to show her who he really was, was much more brilliantly overwhelming than he'd imagined it could be, "...I could never hurt you. If nothing else, you have to trust that."

It was hard for Sark to even consider removing his hand from Sydney's warm, tender flesh that burnt his cold, soft skin so gloriously, making him feel like everything he wished for in the world was in the very palm of his hand, quite literally. Slowly however he was starting to resent being this open with her, because he suddenly was becoming aware of how hard this must be for Sydney, being pulled back and forth by countless elements surrounding her life, as if she were nothing more than a toy. He didn't want to see himself as one of those elements, and he didn't want her to see him that way either. As much as his intentions were without ill intent, it simply wasn't fair for him or anyone else to complicate her life further.

"Do excuse me Sydney...I am being far too forward." Quickly and gently, Sark returned his hand from Sydney's supple shoulder, to his side, with a defeated look hanging from his face for a few moments. "You despise me and regret it though I might, I have to respect that."

Sydney saw the regret and sadness in his eyes, and felt an uncontrollably urge to comfort him. But stopped herself...after all, who had been there for her? Who had comforted her? Sark had taken first Allison, then Lauren as his lovers. The two women who had single handedly destroyed her life. How could she just forget that? How could she forget that while Allison was pretending to be her best friend...the very woman she had murdered...she had also been sharing Sark's bed...and Lauren...that betrayal was too hard to contemplate in more ways than one.

She looked up at him, holding his hand to her shoulder, as he ached to remove it. She saw the sadness, and regret. She even understood it in a way. But being this close to him was bringing everything back to her, and she wasn't quite sure how to handle it. She took a deep breath, to suppress the painful memories as she looked at him. "Julian...I do know...I do...its just..." she sighed, and shook her head. "Its just so much. With everything that happened before, and everything that is happening now...I'm only one woman, Sark. I don't know how much more I can take before I actually break." And being broken again terrifies me, Julian...it scares me more than death...

"You're not made of glass Sydney. You're something else. You won't break." He promised her with the stuff of dreams dancing around in his eyes, and before he even knew what he was doing, or why, or how...her immaculate face was cupped within his artistic hands, and his lips were sharing moments with hers. It was incredible, no amount of imagination could prepare him for this, because Sydney was incomparable to anyone else, nobody came close, not even slightly. It felt like Julian was alight with a cold fire which tickled all of his major organs in a high of breathtaking sensations. He was drinking her in, and the glass never got empty. If only a kiss could last forever

He broke away, and opened his eyes to find Sydney's own eyes opening. The very thought of her enjoying their kiss was in itself mind numbing to Sark. Could what he always believed would happen, finally be happening after all this time and despite all the complications? Sark sighed, and took a brief moment to absorb what just happened, closing his eyes once more and licking her taste from the fragile flesh of his lips.

"Sydney...I...", it was hard for him to form words at this point, all he could think about was that kiss, and kissing her again, "...are we actually doing this?" Sark was in disbelief, having Sydney's lips against his and feeling her tongue wilfully dance against his, knowing that she wanted it to...it was far from anything he ever thought possible. Ever the gentleman for her, he gave her the opportunity to take the kiss back, and make whatever was happening now disappear into the abyss of a simple mistake, where desperate regretted moments go.

She smiled up at him, at the uncertainty dancing in his eyes...those beautiful eyes...they were always my downfall... She took sighed as she looked at him, finding it suddenly difficult to breathe as she draped her arms around his neck. "It would seem so, Julian..." she whispered as she lifted her lips to his.

The sensations that flowed through her body left her breathless, as did the intensity, and seductiveness of his kiss. She groaned, pulling herself closer to him, driven by a need that she couldn't understand, and couldn't comprehend. All she knew was that right now, in this moment she needed him in a way that defied logic, and all common sense. Her body was screaming for him...

She broke away, as his lips worshipped her face, and she smiled, breathing deeply, as she removed the jacket he had so meticulously dressed himself in, just moments before. She could feel his need and desire for her. It matched her own.

Sydney closed her eyes, as her hands finally came into contact with his hard chest, and reached up, once again claiming his lips. "Julian..." she whispered. "My God, Julian..." her words spoke it with a desperation to be with him, to meld their bodies together until they were one.

Reason no longer existed. Nikolai and Irena no longer existed. All that mattered in this moment was him, and her need to be conquered by the one man that had haunted her.

Standing up in a submissive pose, Sark made it quite obvious that he was hers for the taking, whatever she wanted to do with him, he would me more than willing to allow. "I'm yours to have Sydney...but only take me if you really want me." At this point, Sark's impressively large member was fighting against the constriction of his trousers, and he noticed Sydney eyeing his erection, which painfully and heavily throbbed, erect, begging to be freed. "Well...there's a lot to be said for some of us slender men you know." He said naughtily along with the delivery of a rude wink, with that innocence obliterating grin burnt across his lips.

Calmly and which much sophistication, Sark unbuttoned his shirt, and keeping his arms inside it, he simply let the rest of it gather around his back, lowering his arms to reveal a perky, flushed torso, which was more defined than his clothes often suggested. With a sensuality most would think him incapable of demonstrating, Sark raised two fingertips to Sydney's lips, lightly grazing them in a way which would tickle in the best way, sending all sorts of pleasure signals to all the right places. He just had to touch those lips again.

"I want you to have me Sydney. I always have...and you've always known it. So claim me. I'll be yours. I want to be yours." Those words, said in that accent, were not something the atmosphere could resist becoming explosive because of. Already, Sark's breath had gotten heavy, and his heart was racing steadily, in anticipation of Sydney taking him however she wished. Every time he closed his eyes, his brain had an orgasm, and for some reason he could hear things he usually paid no attention to, her general movements, their breath, her body heat, everything. All those little details came together to make something more, something raw and powerful.

God I fucking want you Sark's mouth watered.

"Do I want you?" She shook her head, making a tsk tsk sound with her lips. "Do you honestly think I would be here right now if I didn't, Julian?" She said, as a wicked smile graced her lips.

She traced a hand down his chest, tearing his shirt away, while biting her lip in anticipation of him. She closed her eyes, as she let her wander, feeling every muscle, every line and form on his chest. She opened her eyes, now cloudy with need, and grinned, as she pushed him down to the floor. "Is this what you want, Julian?" She said seductively, as she slowly unzipped her pants, and peeled them away.

He looked at her, like a deer caught in the headlights, as he sat up, to get a better view. She shook her head, and gently pushed him back down, as she straddled his hips, kissing him passionately, as her tongue delved into his mouth. She groaned against him, his hands exploring her body. She didn't have the will to stop him. She wanted him to touch her...everywhere. She wanted to feel him suckling at her breasts, and claiming her in a way that no man ever had...and she knew that he would. It was inevitable...like he had once told her...it was their destiny.

She moaned into his mouth, as she ran her fingers through his hair, urging him to take control.. Julian...take me...make me yours...you're all that I ever really wanted... He pulled on her hair, forcing the kiss to end abruptly, and she almost moaned at the loss. She knew that he had heard the words, though unspoken. And they were about to become a reality.

She claimed his mouth again...wiping away all doubts that he might have had.

All he could do in answer to Sydney's questions is let out muffled mumbles, which were mostly feigned groans of exasperation, but in some way they correctly and clearly communicated how he felt at this point. They served a purpose.

Her breath was hot against his snow-likened cheeks, castings spells on him, making him succumb further to the aggression of his lust for her, boiling his blood, coarsing rampant intentions through his very loins.

He couldn't cast his gaze anywhere else, he had to look at her like this, Sydney free of her 'good girl' mask, he had to capture every moment of this so that he could return to this memory whenever he wished in the future. Sark suspected that Sydney never got like this, not with anyone...she was a tender lover, with gentle passion that warmed her partners heart...but not with him. With him, Sydney was every bit as untamed as Julia Thorne, she was relentless and unbridled, completely free of the ties that bind her down from misbehaving. But oh how you can misbehave with me, Miss Bristow he thought, only turning himself on more in doing so. She was amazing...his everything...and she would know it if she paid him any attention. Let our bodies whisper stories that our words cannot.

"Sydney...you do know that you are setting yourself up for a right good fucking, don't you?" His dirty little mouth informed her, with a soft yet rich tone that vibrated in her ears tantalizingly and tickled her brain. He then suddenly shot up, from having his back resting alongside the floor to holding his torso upright with one hand. With the other he grabbed her hair and pulled her head back, devouring her mouth with such extreme ravenousness, that the kiss almost had the same intention behind it as rape. He then continued to graze her neck with his eternally hungry lips, licking and sucking at it in simultaneous blends of hard and soft. The man knew how to use his mouth, and no matter how good it felt, it more so felt wrong, like a law was being broken, so intensely enjoyable that it felt immoral. Maybe that is what made it so good in the first place. His teeth lightly scratched the surface of her sweet tasting neck, and the fact that he could sometimes feel a vein or two pulsate there beneath his tongue, make his cock pulsate and judder to an even greater stiffness.

"I'm going to give you what Lauren and Allison could never have Sydney. I'm going to fuck you blind. And as you lay quivering beneath my naked body, you will then realise that you will never doubt me again." He promised darkly, with a penetrating look of danger ebbing from his frosty eyes. "You're such a little fucking minx. I love it." He declared, roughly groping at her bosom with one hand, using his thumb to harshly flick and rub at the nipple, both irritating and sensitizing it.

She gasped, arching her back, as he toyed with her nipples, with ever pore in her already aroused body. "Julian..." she whispered, as she brought his lips down to her pert breasts, her nipples already hardened from his teasing. Sydney cried out as his tongue teased the flesh, caressing them almost gently, before suckling on them with a need that matched her own.

She cried out, as he removed her lace panties, encircling her with his finger. He knew what he was doing and he did it well. Sydney's body jerked beneath his careful caresses, driving her closer and closer to the edge. She closed her eyes, and opened her mouth as the sensations coursed through her. Sark smiled, and captured her lips, roughly nibbling on them

She opened her eyes, and smiled at him. It was a smile of pure ecstasy and satisfaction. With an evil grin, she pinned his arms to the ground. A sudden need to be in control had taken over her. She licked her lips as she looked down on him, and in swift stroke, plunged down on him, as he entered her.

They cried out together, and Sydney smiled before kissing him, her tongue playing with his, as his arms tried to gain their freedom. She lifted her head and smiled. "What do you want Sark? Do you want to touch me?" He looked up at her, a look of pure agony on his face. The answer to the question she had just asked, evident in the depths of his eyes.

She cried out as she plunged down on him again...and again...and again. She would never get enough of this feeling...of him. "Julian...oh, Julian!!" she cried out as she released his hands, arching her back in the pleasure that he was giving her.

Gasping for breath, she look at him, as he sat up, claiming her lips in a gentle kiss. "Cum for me, baby.." he whispered against her ear, before gently nipping at the delicate lobe.

Sydney cried out again, as she clawed at his back, aching for a release...and wanting to devour him...all of him. "Julian..." she gasped. "Oh God, Julian...YES...PLEASE!!"

This was far from over, and Sark knew by the saliva still gushing around his mouth. This was only the beginning. He was going to show Sydney what it meant to have someone inside you, completely, to have someone with eternal passion enter you body and soul, what is was truly liked to be utterly and completely fucked.

"This is what I want." He said through a strained grunt, grabbing her arms forcefully and slamming her down on the floor where his legs once rested. He then used his hands to keep her legs spread open, and there was no need to be gentle either, since Sydney's silent groans told tales of liking otherwise. "Now I'm going to fuck whatever ill thoughts you have of me, right out of you. And you're going to love it."

Sydney gasped and struggled past her sensitivity to inform him that she was already on the verge of cumming, but he already knew. "Don't you think I know that...you're practically taking my penis for swimming lessons. But Julian doesn't play this game like other people Sydney, he plays it 'til after it's over. You might want to brace yourself for this..." He warned her, promisingly, making her jaw hinge open slightly.

For a few short moments before he plunged his surprisingly large cock all the way inside her blushing folds, he spanked the opening of her fuckhole with the head of his penis, quite hard, causing loud, wet slapping noises to entice their ears. Then, pushing her legs back, he put it in her, all of it, as deep as it would go, and he continued to ram with the force of a bull, and with a demonic speed. His intensity only grew as he pounded away, and within moments his body was glistening with a dew of sweat. He deeply grumbled and heavily breathed as he continued fucking the senses out of her. It felt so good inside her, hot and wet like a viscous piece of liquid warm heaven had wrapped its lips around his cock. And although she came minutes ago, he just kept on pumping his meaty shaft into her like a beast possessed, pushing her past her orgasm to a place were thought had no structure, and pleasure bled into everything. "You look so fucking beautiful with me inside you." And she did, like chaotic innocence, like peace found in a storm.

It's called an extended orgasm Ms Bristow, and I am very glad you like it.

"Do you want it inside you Sydney? Do you want me to force my seed deep inside you and throb in between the tightness of your walls as I do so? Do you want to feel that Sydney? Is that what you want? For Julian Sark to fill you with his thick, white naughty juice?" He wanted her to have it, but he wanted to hear her demand it. Then and only then would he allow his cock to shoot it's creamy nectar deep inside her, glazing the inner haven of her twat.

She lay beneath him, gasping for air, the pleasure of his sudden assault overwhelming her. She nodded frantically, pleadingly, at him. "Yes, Sark...Yes...Oh God..." she whispered as she bit into his shoulder, drawing blood, and sucking on the wound. "She lifted her face to meet him, ready to beg, ready to do whatever it took to have him inside her. "Please, Julian...God!!" She cried out as his pace never slowed and she felt herself once again coming closer to the brink. "I NEED YOU!!" she screamed out in ecstasy.

It had never been like this for her before. Most men cherished her, coddled her, even worshipped her. But not Julian...never Julian. He knew her...what she craved, and needed, in a way that no one, not even Danny could have ever imagined. And that drove her to new depths.

She looked up at him, sweat glistening her body, as he continued to drive into her, unmercifully, and she closed her eyes, and smiled, as the sensations racked her body. "I want you to take me, Julian...all of me." She opened her lust filled eyes, and looked at him. "I'm already yours...all you have to do is claim me."

"Then...fucking...take...it!" Sark bellowed demandingly as he came deeply inside her. The head of his cock felt like it was on drugs, it was so stimulated, and he could feel every spew of semen shooting from his shaft. The cum just kept streaming out powerfully from the eye of his lustful appendage, he had came hard, but this didn't pose as an obstacle to him, as he just kept on thrusting himself inside of Sydney with the grace of a gazelle and the force of a stallion. The thrusts slowly started to decrease, and then eventually it was done, and Sark knelt with Sydney's leg's over his, just looking at the woman he'd just fucked and came inside of, eyeing her virgin hole seductively and looking at her face.

My, my...I just fucked Sydney Bristow...and this time I was thoroughly awake. What an unforeseen yet unforgettable turn of events this has been.

"Well...it seems that we're not so incompatible after all Ms Bristow. Was that to your liking?" Sark was trying to lighten the mood with his unique brand of dastardly humour, rather than let the atmosphere quickly become one filled with shameful reflections on what had just happened, not that HE would be ashamed of anything that just took place. With a gentle hand he stroked her tight, pink opening just once, and held a gaze with her as he tasted the juices then on his hand. "We even taste good together." He said mischievously before crouching down over her and planting a soft kiss on her forehead.

Moments had passed and Sark had gotten clothed in his disguise for a second time, allowing Sydney the opportunity to gather her thoughts. "So tell me...was it as good as your dreams suggested, or better?" Again Sark made with the lewd humour but it was serving a purpose, she was smiling again, something he liked to see.

She laughed openly as she got redressed, while still sitting on the floor where they had just taken each other. She could still feel her insides throbbing, wanting more of him, but that was for later. There were no recriminations in her mind, like she thought there would be.

She had just been fucked by her former lover's brother, and enjoyed every second of it. She grinned to herself as she stood up, fully dressed, to look at him. "Don't you think its a little too soon to be divulging the secrets of my dreams, Sark?" she said with a wicked grin.

For the first time in months, maybe even years, she was really happy...honestly and truly happy and content. And it was because of him, a man she had never before trusted, and had hated to the core. For the first time, she was actually willing to contemplate just how wrong she had been about him.

The questions of her mother, and of Nikolai still remained, and she knew that eventually she would know the truth. That didn't concern her any longer. The mission lying before them did. And if even an hour ago, she had been worried about posing as his wife, that issue no longer remained. It would be too easy to pretend to be his wife.

She looked back at the floor, before returning her gaze to his. "Why does it feel like my whole life has been leading up to that moment?" she asked him.

"Well I suppose that answers MY question." In an adorable yet cocksure expression, Sark smirked. The driver, who true to super spy form both Sydney and Sark had not even bothered to introduce themselves to, gave the signal, banging on the metal panel behind him. "We're here." And 'here' was the car park of the airport that Sark and Sydney were about to infiltrate. "Come on." Sark suggested, opening the doors at the back of the van and exiting the vehicle, which sped off as soon as Sydney and Sark had their feet on the ground.

Having strutted through security perfectly, and gaining access to the building successfully as their assumed identities of Australian born Daniel and Melinda Harris, Sark and Sydney boarded the flight they were unrightfully were about to pilot. Nobody, not a one, suspected them.

"I don't recall an infiltration of this measure ever seeming so easy. It would seem that naturally, we work splendidly together." Sark supposed, looking almost laughably cute in his pilots outfit, but at the same time handsome. He took a few moments to eye Sydney in her newly assumed identity. She looks good as a blonde. No...she looks good as anything.

Impressively Sark handled and fingered a number of the levers, buttons and switches in the cockpit. It seemed that he knew quite well what he was doing. In a moment of explanation, he cocked his head and spoke to Sydney, "I'm fully trained in the operation of most aircrafts, a fact that comes in quite handy at times like these." He then continued manoeuvring the faculties of the cockpit to his liking, with his body language suggesting that a large part of his attention was still Sydney's to claim if or when she wanted it. Casually, not looking at her, he finally said, "So...your thoughts on my Australian accent? It is far from one of my best but it does the job. Yours...inspired by the Mackey region? Good choice...androgynous enough for people not to think of questioning."

"Thanks...I think. And your accent...well, its...believable." she said with a grin. She turned to look out the window, and down on the world beneath her. "So, tell me Julian, when did you manage to learn how to fly a plane? From what I hear you've been a rather busy boy. You know, being my mother's lap dog and all."

She turned to him, a mocking grin gracing her lips. "So what exactly is this mission of yours? I'm still not exactly clear on the specifics...or...why you need me to attain those goals? Not that today hasn't been fun...or entertaining to say the least. Just a general curiosity."

She thought back to what had happened on the floor of the van, on their way to the airport, and felt a warm flush creep up her cheeks. She had never thought sex with Sark could be that enjoyable...enjoyable, yes...but not mind blowing. But, God it had been. And she couldn't wait until the next time...he was starting to feel like a drug in her system...something she needed to have, or would die without.

"Well Miss Bristow, I wasn't always the Julian Sark you now know...nor the one you knew before...nor the one I was before that. Yes before my secondary metamorphoses I was once a very bright young boy destined for great things. Apparently life had other plans. But then again, I suppose my work is more epic than one man could ask for in life, so for that I am both thankful and humbled." Sark effortlessly deflected Sydney's sarcasm about him being Irena's lap dog. Looking at her simmeringly, he knew it was just an attempt to let him know that she was in no a way a push over just because they had had the most amazing sex of her life...and his. Fret not Sydney, there is much more where that came from I assure you.

"The mission at hand? We must find my brother, free him from his captors and then safely relocate. In the process of this, we must kill as many of my brother's captors as fate sees fit to get in our way, or alternatively all of them, if any of them see your face." Sark explained, with clarity most found a chore to exact. "But the grand scheme of things? We're working against the many upcoming apocalyptic events caused by the perversions of Rambaldi's work due to the desperate ploys for power by mad men and fools. In a nut shell."

"Why the sudden interest is your brother, Julian? When you just fucked his fiancée nine different ways from Sunday? Or is it just that he is part of the plan?" Just like me.

She could feel him looking at her, willing her to look at him, but refused to give in, to be one of his playthings. She had her own agenda, and didn't include his grand plans for her.

She jumped as her cell phone rang, and she answered the call. She could hear the frantic voice of her father on the other side of the line. His fear, and concern over you. She sought to reassure him, so she took a deep breath, and used their old code word, from SD6, the one they had changed shortly after it had been destroyed. "Hey, Dad. Yeah, I'm fine." She heard his frantic questions, and smiled sadly. "Its okay, Dad." She took a deep breath. "Oh, and by the way, I think you should Take the surface streets, they're doing some work on the freeway." She heard his quiet resignation, and smiled sadly. "Yeah, Ill see you later, Dad. I love you."

She disconnected the call, and looked at Sark's questioning gaze. She simply smiled, and shrugged, and looked back out the window. She hoped he didn't overreact, and handled things correctly. Otherwise, he would get himself killed.

"I've always had quite a profound interest in my brother, Miss Bristow...after all we are related and have a commendable sibling bond. Of course you know what I am referring to...within the first five minutes of meeting Nadia you were practically planning double weddings." Sark was deliciously sarcastic, and in this instance in a way which could not be accused of viciousness. "Love my brother though I might, it is entirely platonic, as tempting as his looks may be. On the other hand my dear, how I feel about you almost makes the word 'platonic' cease to exist. He understands how I feel about you...he always has...yet his feelings for you are as true as you have always believed them to be. So...while my fucking you in nine different ways from Sunday may indeed result in some sibling fisticuffs between Nikolai and myself, it in no way deducts from how I feel about my brother." Oh Sark was good, so good it was almost blatant that he was calculating it, for how else could it be so perfect? But at the same time his logic couldn't be denied. That was what rankled people about Sark, being around him caused them to question whether they could trust themselves.

As Sydney answered her phone, Sark mentally forced his eyebrow not to raise and his lips not to curl. Right on time Jack...but then you are not famously known for your tardiness. Other than thinking those private thoughts to himself, Sark did not react to the phone call further, and did not act suspiciously in the slightest.

She shook her head as she listened to him. Did he actually expect her to believe that? She turned to look at him, "Your logic misses one key point, Sark. Nadia and I have never shared men, nor will we ever do so. You and your brother seem to make a habit out of it. First Lauren, now me. How many others did you share in a twisted game of one-upmanship?"

She turned away, suddenly sickened at how she had allowed herself to be used. Not only by Sark, but by his brother...a man she had trusted with her life, and loved with all her heart. She hadn't felt that way about someone since Danny. Ironically, the Vaughn she fell in love with was ripped from her, the same way Danny had been. Although, Danny was always innocent, and never did anything but love her, as she had loved him. But Vaughn...Nikolai, whatever...she couldn't believe that he had ever loved her, anymore than she could believe that Sark truly wanted her for her, and not for some unforeseeable reason. Because believing that, for even one second, would make her whole life a lie.

And she had dealt with enough lies already. And she was tired...so tired of it all.

"Well now you're just over-analysing." Sark said in a comedic 'well now you're not playing fair' fashion. He was right though, on both counts...his point was simply that he loved his brother, and nothing would come between that permanently, and he aimed to make Sydney understand this by reminding her of her bond with Nadia, after only knowing her for a relatively short amount of time. "Don't look so glum Sydney, I'm fairly certain that our more intimate body parts will be reintroduced in the near future. And besides...it's not you who will be receiving the mother of all bashings from your ex-lover...although now that we know each other more personally, I doubt you would mind it too much." No matter how obnoxious Sark was, something about him demanded that you love him, and want more and more of him as each moment passed. His charismatic mischievousness was addictive, and made logic and reason fly out of the window. He was quite something, Julian Sark.

Almost instantly after this banter with Sydney, Sark raised a mouthpiece to his lips and addressed his passengers, assuredly informing them of where the flight was going to take them, and telling them a number of fundamental facts such as the temperature at present, and how long the flight would last. It was all standard procedure stuff, and Sark delivered it perfectly, smiling at Sydney when he'd finished. He was so fucking proud of himself...he knew it, he knew she knew it, he knew she knew he knew it...and that was that made is grin so fucking vibrant. But beneath that vexingly disgruntling veneer, was a clear promise...a promise that he did love Sydney. Somehow that fact unspokenly filled the air.

"So, just to be clear...first you hate me, then you hate me some more...and then some more...then you, by courteousy of me, have the best sex of your life...then you love me and then you hate me again. I believe my supposings to be correct, but I am more than certain you are about to attemptively correct me regarding my assumption that you ever loved me. But let's not fool ourselves here Miss Bristow...when your guard was down earlier...you allowed yourself to love me did you not? And yes it probably frightened you, and yes it probably seemed impossible to you, and yes it probably took a while for you to realise all of this...but the fact remains...you did love me...you felt it...and you liked it. So what is there to be afraid of Miss Bristow? The truest feeling you have ever came upon in your life, or not trusting it?" Taking all of his attentions away from Sydney for a moment, and leaving her to reflect on what he had just said to her, Sark put the finishing touches to his control board, which a while later lead to him to the beginning of the take off of this flight he was piloting.

Then, he looked at her, completely devoid of an assumed front of any sort, and sighed, asking honestly, "What is it that I have to do for you exactly, before you accept that what I have claimed are my intentions and feelings towards you, is true. As soon as you know, please feel free to inform me...because I will gladly oblige." He offered his infinite assistance in Sydney coming to behold the truth of his regard for her.

She rose an eyebrow at his references to their earlier escapade in the van, on the way to the airport. Yes, it was enjoyable...yes, she was weak enough to admit that she wanted more, but she wasn't entirely stupid. She shook her head and made a tsk-tsk sound as she looked at him. "Julian...whatever gave you the idea that I loved you? Or had romantic feelings for you at all? I assure you, I don't. What I did, was let you fuck me, which, I found quite enjoyable, and look forward to doing again at some time in the future. But love?" She shook her head, and chuckled. "Come on, Sark...you cant be that obtuse, can you? To really believe that after everything that's happened, and all this time, I would even like you, much less love you?"

She looked over at him, a haughty expression on her face. "Besides, I am a woman after all, and we women do get horny when the mood strikes us. You just happened to be at the right place at the right time. At that point, I would have fucked Weiss. Not to say that it wasn't great sex...because, well..." she laughed. "We both know it was. But it wasn't making love. With you and me, it will never be making love, Julian. Because I will never love you."

Sark fought back the urge to sarcastically applaud her, and instead cocked an eyebrow to her and grinned, knowingly. "Sydney...could I idolize you any further? I think not." A few seconds passed, while he held back a chuckle. "For the record, this is not a game of cat and mouse...I regard you much greater than to attempt involvement in such an activity with you. The sex like you admit, was second to none in the ratings...arguing that is not something I would entertain for any reason. But let's not adhere to the outlined characteristics of Julia Thorne in an attempt to seem bullet proof to what is happening here. Even she was a part of your existence, and even in that guise, you were not capable of such unfeeling, the darkest corner of you though she might have been." Sark began to lay down a few home truths.

"You my dear, are simply not the type of lady to be as intimate as you were with me, with a person you do not love. As much as you 'loved' my dear brother, we both know you never gave that much of yourself to him, nor did you take from him such a measure of what he had to offer. There really is no need here to prove to me that you are not a flailing subservient, Sydney...on the contrary, that is one of the greater reasons for my utter admiration of you...so please, let's drop the facade of proposed defences, it is needless and to me quite transparent." At this point, Sark was no longer smirking in his usual way, he meant business. He was growing impatient of Sydney's reluctance to succumb to the truth she must have known by now, despite the many imperfections surrounding it.

"And for the record, you didn't answer my question...and...like it or not...you do love me." Apparently Sark couldn't leave his smoulderingly cocky nature alone for much longer than a few seconds, but then without it, he wouldn't be Sark, and wouldn't be marginally as fuckable.

"So because we had sex once, you suddenly presume to know the secrets of my heart? Things that no intel on heaven or earth could give you? I don't think so."

She looked at him, and shook her head, getting angry at his cocky manner, and presumptuous words. "To answer your question, I believe I already spelled out just what my feelings towards you entailed. Yet, you insist on believing that there is something more to it. That's your prerogative, I guess." She said with a nonchalant shrug. "I however know what my feelings are. I would be a fool to love you, Sark. And your sudden declarations of feeling will not change that fact. You expect me to simply accept your pathetic excuses for the past, and nod and smile and say, 'Oh, that's okay, honey. I know you didn't mean it.' Well, you know what? Go fuck yourself. You killed my best friend. You stole over two years of my life, and joined the Covenant in a relentless pursuit of me and Nadia. Why the hell would I trust you? What have you ever done to prove that you can be trusted? That you are anything but an enemy with a great libido, and knows how to use what God gave him? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. So, until I get some solid answers, that account to more than, 'I wish it were different...or, it was a past mistake' don't expect my trust, much less my respect, or any kind feelings towards you. After all, a leopard doesn't change its spots. Once an ass, always an ass, Julian."

"You...are SO hot when you're angry." Sark said, not able to buy any of the rant Sydney had just subjected him to, he knew better. What is with women and jitters...they seem to go hand in hand with having a vagina.

"Now to say my declarations are sudden is quite naive. Could I have made it any more obvious? The truth is Sydney, as dedicated to what I believe in as I am, which you apparently have no faith in whatsoever quite yet, I wished not to like you. But then something quite brilliant happened. I met you. From that moment on, I couldn't be held responsible for my devotion to you. For that, I blame you." Sark, being an expert at crisis management, dealt with this in such a sophisticated and suave way, that is was almost unbelievable. "Really Sydney...'we are destined to work together'...how long did I know you before I dropped that hint? And you my dear are not one to talk...'he's the guy at school that's hot but he knows it'. Apologies...some slight surveillance was necessary." Sark brushed off the fact that he had heard things that Sydney had said about him, that were not meant for his ears. But in the life of a super spy, such was to be expected. Sydney herself has done many things that were not morally as correct as she'd like. Bad things for a good cause.

"Which bring me to my next point...which I believe I have already explained to you in part. My involvement with The Covenant was constructed entirely to keep an eye on you. Why else do you think that it didn't reform after my escape?" Sark was on the verge of rolling his eyes at Sydney, but he wasn't that easy. That's what she wanted...for him to push her away, so that any further feeling between them would be impossible. An admirable tactic, but not one Sark was about to succumb to.

"And like I have said before, I did not kill your best friend...Allison did...and it was a means to an end Sydney...because her death meant your life, and God only knows that you were entirely worth it." Sark took a second to realise that what he said may have seemed insensitive. "Forgive me...I am not a heartless man, contrary to popular belief. I hate that you had to suffer such sacrifices...but the lives you have saved...and will save...how important you are to this world...there is no way anybody in their right mind could let you go, no matter what the comparatively minor circumstances." You have the misfortune of learning all of this in time Sark deliberated in his own thoughts.

"Well obviously our relationship is one based on fire. I can live with that." And just like that, Sark was as jovial as the only none-virgin schoolboy. Sydney couldn't quite touch that nerve she aimed to, but it was less about what she was capable of, and more about how much he loved her to make it not matter what she said or did to him...that...and well...he saw beyond the current strategic obstacle.

"As fond as our lover's tiff as I might be, we are now fully airborne, and we have a captive to rescue. Maybe when he offers to answer these 'solid questions' of which you speak, you will take him up on the offer." Sark made a point of the fact that he had offered her the truth on a plate on every occasion, and she had not taken it and them and then complained about it. Intelligent women...they will be the death of me. "So then...shall we?"

She looked at Sark, and fought the urge to slap him...hard. Didn't the guy just ever react?! It was frustrating to no end. She took a deep breath, and sat back in her chair, as he continued the flight.

"Fine...you win for now. But don't think that this discussion is over. Or that my conceding at this point, means you've won. Far from it. I want answers, and I will get them. And if I have to help you rescue your lying, two-faced brother in order to do it, then so be it."

She looked at him, her eyes hard. "And once I have those answers, I will walk out, and we will never see each other again. No teaming up on missions, no sexual innuendos. No nothing. And before you even say it, I will walk away Sark. You can count on that. The thought of having you...or him...in my life, disgusts me. We both have a purpose, we can enjoy each others bodies until then. But that's it. Don't think I will fall in love with you. Because I will slit my own throat before I allow that to happen. Are we clear?"

"A more justified description of what 'we' are at this point, would be 'jaded', but regardless...I don't think this disagreement will cause a problem." Walk away? the only way you will be walking away Miss Bristow is with my cock up your arse, and you know it. I might even make you beg for it. So far Sydney's supposings were both amusing and irrational, to Sark. Her recent statement which concluded that they were only sexually available to each other before this mission was over, was tellingly contradictive. It implied that she regarded the sexually merging of herself and Sark enough to mention it during an angered stupor, but at the same time she was trying to dictate that after the mission was over, there would be no intimacy between them whatsoever, which was quite a wild and not thought out statement, since when did she expect them to fuck, during a mission in which all of their amenities needed to be focussed on the task at hand, with no time to spare? "We're clear alright."

Sark then withdrew a laser pen, which he used to draw an almost perfect square into the floor beneath him, making sure not to direct the laser in the same place for too long...such a thing might not only cause an endangering circumstance aboard something so sensitive as an airplane flight, but would also destruct any chance of their mission being successful. He then lowered himself through the small, cleanly made hole, which was just big enough for a human being to fit through, and with his eyes, gestured to Sydney to follow him through it, leaving the aircraft on autopilot. "There's no time like the present Miss Bristow."

Only moments later, he and Sydney had both crawled undetectably through the workings of the aircraft to come across and above-head view of the cargo bay, which in a usual unbelievable way, but not so to the likes of Sydney and Sark, was inhabited not only by hordes of suitcases, but also to a man previously known as Nikolai, and a number of his captors. One of those captors unmasked, and quite blatantly the woman Sydney had once regarded as not only an authority figure and privilege to her country, but also a woman whose identity was known as 'Hayden Chase', or more technically, 'Director Chase'.

"I told you this wasn't going to be easy to take, Sydney."

They both watched on as Hayden intimidatively patrolled around the once Vaughn, now Nikolai, while he was constrained to a chair, and obviously long since beaten to a pulp, barely seeming conscious.

She looked around the small area, memorizing each facet, and determining the best way to strike. She chose not to focus on the captive in question. For now, he was just a faceless person, that she needed to save.

She felt for the knife on her thigh, satisfied when she felt it there, and took the gun into her hand, as she silently crept closer to the assembled group. Sark took the other way, and they signalled at each other to attack.

She crept to the attacker closest to her, and hit him in the back of the head with the base of her gun, knocking him unconscious, as he silently fell to the floor, she nodded to Sark as she moved closer, waiting to make her next move.

As sly as a fox and as unheard as the crash of thunder despite it being visible, because of the delay in the breaking of the sound barrier, Sark with a dark sophistication, appeared behind one of the men who had taken his brother captive, and before this particular enemy even knew whose cold arm it was wrapping around their neck, or why for what purpose they were doing so, he was delivered a lack of consciousness, which had followed a jolt of cold, metal pain, courteousy of Julian Sark's crafty, knife work. It was so quick, and so effortless, and Julian was not ashamed to show that his face spared no remorse for his enemy.

Less than a second after this, Sark was attacked by two more men from the side, and made a fundamental note to himself regarding the fact that they all seemed to be concealing their faces with black pull-over masks. With tainted grace he instantly punched one of these men in the neck with full force, rendering them inoperative, gagging and struggling for breath on the floor, before being knocked out by his knee. And for the other, he used his knifeless hand to pull a trigger, releasing a bullet from the barrel of his gun only to bury it at a high speed inside his enemies head. It was instantaneous. The Sark Sydney knew was dangerous and devilishly bright...but was he ever known to be this good?

It was far from over, Sark knew more would come. This was just the first round, and the people he and Sydney had faced so far were probably just the expendable kind...the rookies.

Sark's eyes flashed for just a moment as they met his brothers. His face grew cold again as he fired his gun in Nikolai's direction. He had not shot him though, just part of the wooden chair he was constrained against, breaking it just enough for his brother to break free of his bindings by exhibiting some manageable force. Sark then removed another gun from the inside pocket of his jacket, and sent it through the air to his brother. Sure, Nikolai had looked in better shape, but he was going to be able to pull through for this...and three numbers were better than two.

"Three of us and...so many of you. I don't like your odds." Sark retorted to the on looking enemies who were gradually gathering around he, Sydney and Nikolai. Nobody could afford to be trigger happy due to the delicate circumstances of misfiring a bullet aboard a plane, and so there was going to have to be a lot close quarters brutalisation. Fine by me. "Nobody gets out alive." He calmly insisted.

As Nikolai got to his feet, gun in hand, Sydney felt a pair of beefy hands tighten around her, trying to disarm her. She butted the unseen captor in the head, loosening his grip on her body, before delivering a roundhouse kick to his chest, sending him spirally back. She shot him, one bullet, perfectly aimed, and smiled as death took him.

She looked up, and saw a small group running towards her, and smiled in anticipation. As they attempted to attack her, she easily disarmed them, and sent each one crashing to the ground. They had no idea who she was, her face firmly hidden in her disguise. If they had known, they would have been smart enough to stay away. But their ignorance was her advantage.

She felt a calmness overtake her, as she disabled attacker after attacker, sending them either to their death, or unconsciousness. It was almost therapeutic for her. Everything else fell away, as she let herself go, and let her instinct survival take over. She didn't look over at Sark, or his brother. She didn't need to, but instead, focused on her prey, one by one.

He took care of a few more of the goons...as slowly the better skilled ones emerged from the darkness of the cargo hold. He watched on proudly as his only brother, and her ex-lover, now his although reluctantly, fought the majority like conjoint perfection. There must be a lot to be said about 'keeping it in the family'...we work very well together.

But Julian wanted more...he wanted her...the mother of all bitches who was in charge of this show...he wanted her blood, and he was out to get it, and now, dead set on doing so. The numbers of their enemy were quickly dying off, and just as Sark finished dealing with one of the few remaining, there she was; Hayden Chase, a woman who not only Sydney, but a massive majority of people working for the CIA and for their country, believed to be doing just the same as themselves. How wrong they were.

"So...you don't find it amicable to conceal your identity like the rest of your mongrel dogs? Well isn't that just like you Miss Chase...or is that Mrs Chase Senior now? You are not wearing your age well of late...but then being the absolute cumwhore that you are probably isn't helping to fend of those crows feet." Sark cunningly quipped, mocking the bitch who stood before him so callously and proud of herself, when she had no reason whatsoever to find herself graceful by any means.

"You've got a lot of nerve Mr Sark...and as much as I find that amusing, it will be the reason you will end up buried." She replied, coldly and dripping with attitude, and unaffected by the current state of things in the sense that her operation was now at risk and was more than likely going to fail.

"Well there is no time like the present. That is a fact I am quite fond of. Now...why not lay your claims to rest and actually put them to use in a more practical fashion? I for one am just riveted in the anticipation of you actually being capable of something you allege yourself alone to be."

"Don't push your luck Sark." She said, and then after a moment of not flinching, went for her gun. But as soon as the thought entered her mind, Sark was directly in front of her holding his gun to her head, before her palm was comforted by the cold of her weapon.

"I'm not a great believer in luck Miss Chase...we make of life what we will...but if luck indeed was something to be regarded, then I would say that you of all people, considering your immediate position, are not one to speak much of having any...wouldn't you?"

Then, suddenly and out of nowhere, amidst the heated power play taking place between Sark and Hayden, a figure, obviously a man for his large frame and height, sprung out at Nikolai who was distracted like everybody else by the happenings with his brother and Hayden. This man, whoever he was, caught Nikolai off-guard, and instantly locked him into a powerful chokehold from behind. But as the light glimmered maliciously from the end of his thick combat knife, it was instantly obvious that the aforementioned chokehold was only meant for positioning. That was when Sydney shot. And that was when Hayden became hysterical.

"Sydney...I...stay...don't look." It was obvious at this point that Sark knew what was about to be revealed, and that he never wanted it to come to this, as Hayden rushed to the dying man's side, unmasking him to offer him her final words in this lifetime.

"Not you...not like this. My son." She struggled to say.

Sark watched on in utter regret at Sydney's face...he didn't want her to learn this, let alone be responsible for what had just happened...but that was out of his hands now.

Sydney...I am truly sorry.

Her face fell, a whole myriad of emotions playing in her face for the first time since she had descended into the cargo hold with Sark. She looked at the fallen man...her trusted friend, her ally...her Dixon. How could this be? How could she have not recognized him, even masked? They had worked together for years.

He had stood by her when Danny died, as she has stood beside him when his wife was taken from him...his grief had become her own. They had trusted each other with their lives, more than once. And she had just cruelly robbed him of his. How? Why? Dixon... She felt the tears begin to choke her as she looked at his fallen body, the whole scene becoming a haze before her eyes.

She looked over at Sark, and saw the sadness in his eyes...sadness for what she had been forced to do.

She had known this man...both professionally and personally. And now, she had killed him. How could she live with herself knowing that? Knowing what she had done? It was her worst nightmare come true. She shook her head, as tears welled in her eyes, and she fell to her knees, her weapon dropping beside her. Her body racked with sobs, as an unearthly cry rose from the depths of her throat. She ripped off her mask, her protection from those who knew her, and crawled to his fallen body.

She placed a hand over his heart, as the tears fell from her face. "Dixon..." she sobbed, laying her head on his chest, as she held his now dead body in her arms. "I didn't know...I didn't know..." she cried out. As she lay there, her body convulsed with her weeping. She would never forgive herself for this...never. How could she? She had just murdered her best friend.

"You see what you do to people, you treacherous whore? Your own fucking son for God's sake. If I ever thought you weren't worthy of the peace that death brings as opposed to seeing your eradication from this world entirely necessary above all other reasoning...then those thoughts have long since passed." Sark promised her that she would live to regret what she had done, especially now to his Sydney, his precious, amazing Sydney. That woman had shed too many tears and lost too much at the hands people like her...and their dose of karma was long due. He felt obligated to be it's deliverer.

But just as soon as Sark finished his comments to Hayden, he had to fire his gun again, this time because Hayden had instantly dropped the guise of a woman desperately mourning her son, and then instantly assumed the literal position of a murderer about to jam a knife deep into the most delicate joint of Sydney's spine. His gunshot disarmed Hayden before she got the chance.

"You really are disgusting." He stated bluntly stated, to an almost dementedly smirking Hayden, who seemed to find all of this entertaining on some sick and twisted level. "You entertain your sons death with nothing more than an act...a ploy to cowardicely kill a woman the likes of whom's substance, brilliance and worthwhile you shall never touch upon. How dare you Miss Chase. How dare you!" Hayden was not doing herself any favours.

Then in an unexpected rush, Hayden shifted and ran amongst the stacks of luggage too quickly and her presence too concealed by the corridors of suitcases, to pinpoint her before her goal was achieved. That goal becoming clear to all as the air began to surreally vacuum, hitting everybody impactively like the environment was charged with thunder. It already was. Sydney in tears like this, and the crisis at hand...it was not something Sark found poetic at all. Luckily his brother was capable of keeping her safe.

The dead bodies of their enemies were sucked out of the plane as if how literally they were not wanted has caused some sort of quantum mechanical event to occur. Sydney struggled in Nikolai's arms, to try and keep Dixon from meeting the same fate as the rest of his associates. "It's too late Sydney...let him go. You have to let him go." were Nikolai's only words to her, although muffled by the sheer forces crashing through the air, as he held her strongly in his arms against her wishes, as Dixon's body disappeared from the body of the plane.

Suddenly Hayden appeared before the hatch she had just opened, fully suited with a parachute. She then looked back wickedly at Sark and the others, who were hanging on for dear life not to be sucked out of the plane, and angrily bellowed "This isn't over." And just before she made her exit she had one last personal message for Sydney. "I'll deal with you little girl." And with that, she was gone.

A while had passed...the hatch had been sealed again, and the bumpiness of the ride was explained to passengers as an unforeseen bout of 'slight turbulence', courteousy of their acting pilot Julian Sark. But the trauma was still present in the eyes, heart and soul of Sydney Bristow, a woman who Julian Sark and his brother had never seen so broken. And Julian let him comfort her...he owed them both at least that.

She sat on the floor of the cockpit, huddled against the wall in the foetal position. Sark had wanted her to sit beside him, but she couldn't...not now. Not with what had happened down bellow. She felt...shattered.

She could hear them talking in hushed voices. Nikolai thanking his brother unnecessarily, their shared concern of her, as they both sneaked glances in her direction, concern and love evident in their eyes.

But Sydney felt hollow, she felt like a part of her had died down there. She would have gladly allowed herself to be sucked out of the plane along with her fallen friend. Tears continued to fall from her eyes, unnoticed by her, she just sat there...only a semblance of the strong and vibrant woman she had been an hour before.

All she felt now was the pain of what she had did. He lied her head down on the floor, and closed her eyes, attempting to shut the world out, numb her pain...whatever she could to forget the horrible event that had just taken place.

She didn't even blame Hayden for wanting to kill her. She knew that they would meet again...and she knew that she deserved whatever fate dealt her. Because she had killed a good man. The best kind of man. And she didn't know how she could live with that weight on her shoulders.

For the first time since she was a child, since Irena deserted her...she needed her father. Daddy...I need you...

The easy part was over, and the given the circumstances of the easy part, the hard part would indeed be every ounce of what it entailed it would be, with no expenses spared.

It was the morning after the night before and Sark, Sydney and the man once known as Michael Vaughn but now known to be Julian Sark's blood brother, Nikolai Sark, had relocated after their mission, exactly as the plan had deliberated. They were in an exclusive, upper class, coastal residential area in Morocco, the villa they stayed in having been booked in advance, through a number of Irena's contacts, the likes of whom although rightfully loyal to her, know better than to be otherwise.

Sark and Nikolai were downstairs in the kitchen, sitting over a tempered, mahogany table, yet neither of them had the appetite at present to make effective use of the room they were in, at least in the sense of what that room was entailed to function as. Alone together, the brothers would surely have a lot to speak about, even given the unfortunate, sensitive circumstance that was apparent throughout the atmosphere of the whole villa, but the extent of what they had to say to each other would have to wait for another day, because they were not alone. In fact, their visitors has not long since arrived, and they had the brothers' undivided respect and attention.

"How is she?" Irena asked, like a mother who loved her child without question, although that question was often one that arose.

"She has been, during the time I have spent with her since...inconsolable. And as you know, it is highly doubtful she will leave the confines of her room and private thoughts until she sees fit to do so. I would be so frank as to say that now is not the time for her to discover what she is about to...but then no time would be appropriate. What life has chosen her to do is simply asking too much. She is only human. The only comfort regarding this that I obtain, is in knowing that she is capable of mastering the destiny that takes so much away from her." Sark retorted, a poem of broken souls seeping from his wanting eyes like falling smoke.

"She has to know that what happened was not her fault. Dixon chose his own path years ago, his death was inevitable. No matter what the circumstances, she would have had to face him one day, and one of them would have had to die. She is only lucky that he chose to threaten your brother's life before her own, otherwise I feel she would not be here to be beaten up over it." Irena shared, making quite clear of her undying love for her daughter, and shining even more light of clarity on to the man Dixon truly was; a ruthless murderer. "She is a smart girl...no...woman. For God's sake she is smarter than most of us...she must have came to the right conclusion. He was going to kill 'Vaughn'...that is the very reason she killed him...that alone must prove to her the truth of his intentions."

"We should go to her" Irena looked to Jack, who stood beside her, with a look of withdrawn devotion glowing from her face.

"I suggest we allow Sydney to come to her own senses. She has been through quite enough and I feel it is something we should all regard; that she has earned that much." Sark almost demanded, knowing fully well that he was treading on a very thin line with Jack and Irena with the way he expressed himself towards them.

"You know what I think, Mr Julian Sark? I think...that you should limit your affairs to the limits you have had them set out to be, and while doing so, watch on without involvement as Irena and myself, her rightful parents, take care of our daughter. If that poses some form of problem to your meddlesome need to become over involved with things you have no jurisdiction over whatsoever, then that is something we can settle at a very immediate future time." Sydney's father shot, charged with passive aggressive logic, the nature of which was trademark of Jack's usual commanding and overbearing charm.

"Jack..." Irena strove to calm her lover, but only slightly, knowing that he had a point that she believed in, and all too aware of his refusal to ever being spoken to by the likes of Julian, the way he had just been spoken to. But she knew Julian meant well, what was best for Sydney, and even though what she wanted to do and would well do if she saw fit went against what Julian had suggested, that is why she had such high regard for her young counterpart.

I stood at the window, looking out at the ocean, as the waves broke against the rocks, over and over again, crashing and receding, crashing and receding. It seemed to fit with the events of my life. Everything...all the way back to when my mother left, crash after devastating crash. It never seemed to an end. I thought each crash had made me stronger because of it, because I had survived it and moved on. What this what my life was to be? Nothing but survival? Would there be no happiness for me to ever truly experience? Sloane lied and betrayed me, my mother lied and betrayed me, Vaughn lied and betrayed me. I felt hollow for the first time in my life. As if there were nothing left inside, as though I were merely a shadow of the woman I had been before.

I let the tears fall from my eyes, ignoring them, as I turned away, and made my way from the bedroom I had been given...the comfortable prison I was locked away in by Julian and his brother.

As I descended the stairs, I could hear voices risen in anger. Dad?...Irena?...what were they doing here? How...why?... From my place by the doorway, I could see them in a heated argument with Julian, as his brother looked on with sad eyes. I looked at the scene before me, my eyes devoid of any of the light and laughter that used to be present in their depths.

"Rightful parents?" I laughed, and the sound seemed hollow and empty even to my ears. "What rightful parents?" I asked as I walked into the room, and stood before the two people who had given me life, and had betrayed it just as quickly. "Surely not you, Dad...a man I barely knew for most of my life, and even in my adulthood treats me like a colleague as opposed to a daughter."

I turned to look at Irena, "And you...you..." I shook my head as I looked at her. "You who abandoned me, destroyed us, and then pretended to want me once more, but that was just a means to an end, wasn't it, Irena?"

I heard them call my name, pleadingly, but I ignored it as I looked at the two brothers, and shook my head at them sadly. "No one in this room has any rights to me, whatsoever." I said quietly, as I felt myself drifting away, and darkness claiming me.

Sark, with his forced awareness of Sydney's autonomy, quickly jumped out of his seat to catch her before she fell. There was not much of a warning to her coming over faint, but he knew her, he saw her...always. Gently but also firmly, which was a surprising thing to be able to do given Julian's slender appearance and below medium frame, he tended to her, sitting her upright on a chair and holding the back of her neck, telling her "You're fine...I'm with you Sydney." The sight was too much for Nikolai to bare, and his defeated eyes looked to Irena and Jack with a cursed brow, telling them, "I think I'm going to...take a breath.", before stepping outside to the patio. It was obvious to all present what was going on here, especially the likes of Irena and Jack, who were expert analysts of any situation, even more so unconventional relationships. Irena and Jack looked to each other knowingly and fought back the need to shrug.

"Sydney...I am your mother. And Jack is your father. You can like it, or you can dislike it, but there is nothing you can do to erase those facts." Irena leaned in, her tone of voice was warm but her words and intentions were quite blunt, tough love being her way of relation. "There are a lot of things you do not understand Sydney. Everything that has happened to you over the last few years, everything you have come to believe...it has all been a lie...even things from before that...from before your involvement with SD-6. I know it sounds like too much to ask you to overcome again...but it is not as bad as you think. It is not only the good things that are untrue." There was no question that Irena was devoted to her daughter, the look on her face told that much, like a strong whisper. It was hard for Irena, she could never be the gentle mother with a soft nature to nurture her child with, she didn't know how...she could only be who she was, the brick wall of emotions that oftentimes wished she could be otherwise for Sydney. "Sydney...me and your father...we were never separated." Irena took a deep breath. "Those people that you fought...they discovered my workings against them when you were just a small child...I was the only one aware of it at that time. They didn't suspect your father. Sydney...they set me up. I am not the woman they say I am. Don't you see Sydney, that all me and your father have done, all of this pain, this deception...it was necessary Sydney...so that I could be your mother again someday...so that I could watch you become with every moment the brilliant young woman you evolve as every day."

"She's dehydrating...Sark?" Jack loudly stated, prompting Julian to hand him a large glass of water, which was then put before Sydney on the table.

"I have loved your father from the moment I met him. Sydney...I was never a double agent, and I never killed those agents. They were friends of your father and myself. They were killed because I had informed them of The Order...and I was the scapegoat. They never suspected your father knew better than to believe...Sydney...I'm sorry you have to learn this now, but you must be strong. Life has dealt you cards and now you make of them what you will. Do you think it was easy for me to know I couldn't be with the man I love, and you, everything good about myself and that man personified?" Irena exposed Sydney to some shocking revelations. "Sydney." Irena, in a gesture not often bared witness to, took her daughter in her arms tenderly, and kissed her forehead. "I am your mother." And without juddering, flinching, wailing or falling prey to any other physical manifestation or expression, two tears raced downside either cheek of Irena Derevko.

Sark, feeling very uncomfortable seeing 'the family' and all of it's intense characters in such a position like this, became very unsettled, and his potently English sense of respect and manners, overcome him. "Perhaps I should grant you all some privacy." She gently suggested, stepping up from his chair and resting on hand atop the back of it to push it in under the table.

I took the glass of water, letting the cool liquid soothe my dry throat and lips, as I listened to what was being said around me. From the way my mother made it, she was the victim, not me. No, never me. Never the innocent little girl who was deserted, and lied to, time and time again. I didn't know how much more of her "motherly attentions" I could take before snapping anymore than I already had. The last few days had been too much...between Nikolai, then Dixon...I already felt shattered. And now, sitting here, I felt broken, like a piece of shattered glass.

I heard Sark attempt to withdraw, and looked at him, my eyes pleading for him to say, to help shield me from further damage. He looked at me sadly, and nodded, as he sat beside me, taking his hand in mine. I needed that small comfort, that small measure of sanity that he was giving me.

"I don't know what to say to you, Irena. What is it you want to hear? That I understand? Well, I don't understand. I don't understand how you can stand here, and tell me all of this, that everything was even more of a lie, and expect me to just smile and forgive. I cant do that. Too much has happened."

I turned to Jack, and looked at him with the same expression. "You always said that everything you ever did was to protect me. How is this protecting me? How? When you knew, more than anyone, how I needed to know...how I needed to feel like it wasn't my fault. Like my mother really did love me...love us. And yet you kept that from me just like everything else."

I looked back between these two people, my parents by blood, those who had shaped me. "I don't know who you two are. I'm not sure I ever really did."

"Sydney...nobody present would expect you to simply accept the truth, grant us a smile and then move on with your life. This may be a house of caution, but it is not one of fools." Sark attempted to take some authority, which was met with the resentful eyes of both Jack and Irena.

"Sydney...of all the things you know about me, the things you know must be true without reasonable doubt, one of the most prominent of these things is that I have mastered the way that organised bodies of crime, law or otherwise authority, work. So much so that with my logic alone I can predict definite outcomes within such organisations given any amount of added circumstances as well as I can outmanoeuvre anybody who is watching my every move, so that they quickly and effectively trust me more than ever before. I tell you this Sydney, simply because it is a fact you need to hear. I could not tell a child as young as you were, the truth, without it someday being traced. In later years, I could not tell you, because it seemed unlikely you were ever to know your mother, and so I would sooner you have had one heartbreak than two. The moment you became an agent for SD-6, and I witnessed exactly how well you operated, far better than most and with wisdom and instincts beyond your short time of training, I instantly became aware of what would happen, and what opportunities this granted us. However, you like everybody else important, still had to believe what you were lead to, otherwise all of this would have been for nothing and it is highly doubtful that myself, along with wife and child, would be standing here alive to have these evident crossed wires that we do. Am I making myself clear?" Jack ranted, his intellect was life an effortless steam train that just kept on running through the tracks of his vocabulary.

"A lie is more believable when it is the truth to some." Irena explained, softly.

"Yes Sydney, exactly...now I would like to remind you that although we rightfully sympathise with your misfortune, you are not the only one who has suffered in all of this. It was not to mine and your mother's utter joy that all of this was necessary. If you wish to be angry Sydney, then that's perfect, in fact I will join you...but don't lose sight of who you should be angry with, the people who left your parents no choice but to watch on as they broke your heart." For Jack, these recent statements were quite intensely riddled with emotion, in fact, near the end of his last sentence, you could almost hear the coming of tears choking the back of his throat.

"I will kill them for this Sydney. Every one of them." Irena was none too pleased with witnessing the bare upset and negativity that The Order has by a rather direct proxy, have caused her daughter to invoke.

Julian took a random moment to whisper a promise to Sydney, amidst the chaos of confusion going on around her. "Whatever you need from me to get through this, Sydney...it is yours. Take anything I have. No harm will come to you...I love you Sydney." He said, feeling his own love for her humble his heart, making his whole torso feel both hollow and heavy.

She looked at Irena her eyes hard and cold, as she listened to her Jack lay their own faults at the doorsteps of others. "Really? And who is it that will kill you, mother, for the pain and damage that you have committed, to the very child you claim to love? Oh, but its all for the greater good, so its okay then, isn't it? My God!" she shouted, in a sudden spurt of energy. "Nadia was more fortunate than she ever dreamed! To never to have grown with you "love". My, God!! How I wish I could have that kind of ignorance right now!!" She felt the tears coming...from the one thing she always wanted but never really had...a mother.

She felt Sark tighten his grip on her hand, reassuring her. He whispered into her ear, his words silent to the others in the room. She turned to him, her eyes wide, and in shock. For the first time, she believed him...and knew that she felt the same way. She loved him. This man, who had been first her enemy, then her lover...she loved him. A serenity took over her face, knowing he would stand by her, no matter what happened. In that moment, she had never been happier.

"Forgive me for once again overstepping my boundaries, but as the only one here not related by blood, I feel my unbiased input at this specific, heated event, is rather valuable." Julian peered at Irena and Jack, showing them he wasn't afraid to speak up against them, even in the knowledge that they together were a force to be reckoned with, and had very erratic temperaments. "She needs some peace, away from all of this...and she needs not to be alone with nothing but her thoughts to poison her. Please...allow me to take you to your room, Sydney." Sark at first, spoke to Irena and Jack, and then diverted his attention to Sydney, his eyes swam with affection for her.

Nikolai looked on through the glass of the window pane from the outside, the look on his face fading further into the abyss of sombre desperation. A few moments after Sydney left with Julian, Jack and and Irena tended to Nikolai's broken spirits.

"Nikolai...before you do anything you will regret...you should think about this clearly. However you feel about Sydney, however she feels about you...Julian has never kept his intentions towards her a secret from anybody here, least of all you. You cannot blame him for the feelings he owns regarding her...especially when it is ultimately her choice; what she must do about them." Irena carefully insisted to Nikolai with regards to the conflictive love triangle apparent between him, Sydney and his brother.

"I'm not even angry with him Irena...I'm not even sure what it is that I 'am' and to whom I 'am' it towards. I know more than anyone else, that my pairing with Sydney was only part of a plan...but the day I met her, there was no act involved. I did love your daughter, Irena...Jack...I still do. I understand that now more than ever she has to take control of her life and who she shares it with...but I am just angry...angry because I'll never love anybody as much as her again, angry because the things I had to lie about to her, to protect her life no less, cause her to see me as heartless and untrustworthy. I'm angry...because I've lost her because I loved her." Nikolai tried to shrug off his intense emotional entanglements.

"So...you are family after all." Jack quipped.

"You really are a beautiful man, Nikolai. I can see why she loved you." Irena smiled, and at this point it was obvious that she and the man previously known to Sydney as Michael Vaughn had a relationship; the likes of which was so unexpected for what it was, that it would seem horrifyingly surreal to an onlooker familiar with the staged relationship between the two.

"And what of Julian? Shall I book the cage for your resentfully charged brawl now, or later?" Jack asked, displaying and putting to use, more sarcasm than usual, but his question held some truth in it's context.

"Jack...he's Julian Sark...it's hard not to hate him at the best of times...just as much as it's hard to hate him. But no matter how anybody looks at it, he hasn't betrayed me here. He told me that if he ever got the chance to love her then he would take it. As unconventional it is for me to accept all of that is, he is not at fault." Nikolai's eyes scrunched up gently for a few moments while he contemplated what he'd just said. He then looked back to Jack and casually, bluntly stated, "He's an ass. An overly English ass.", causing Jack to flash a smile for a second.

She cradled her head against Sark's chest as he carried her in his arms, and up the stairs towards her bedroom. She closed her eyes, and smiled dreamily. She felt safe here, with him. He kicked open the door, and walked inside, gently laying her in the bed, and wrapping his arms around her as he laid down beside her.

"Julian..." she whispered, not sure what to say, how to proceed. So much had changed for her in such a short amount of time, and she wasn't sure how to handle it all. How to proceed. She felt so uncertain, and out of control...so...lost...

She looked up at him, and into his eyes. The same love she felt, reflecting in his deep blue pools. She took a deep breath and relaxed against him, taking one of his hands to her lips, and placing a gentle kiss on his knuckles, as she opened his palm, and traced the lines with her finger.

"I'm so glad you are here with me, Julian. So very glad..."

"Well of course you are...have you seen this face? Turns any situation right round, you know." Sark chirpily quipped in a lighter than usual expression of sarcasm. It was still just like him though, to be so...Julian...so...Sark. As he made sure that she was more than comfortable, tending to the covers so that they loosely hugged around her, he sat beside her with his arms at both of her sides, leaning over Sydney just slightly.

"This is hard Sydney, I know. And I assure you, I would never aspire to say otherwise. But if I had any doubt regarding your ability to overcome this...I would never have even let my feelings be known to you." Sark confessed, her knight in shining armour and an angel all at the same time, albeit a naughtier than usual angel. Even when he was being sincere like this, there was an unshakable amount of shagginess to his character, he would always be Sark no matter how sweet the intention. "And I meant what I said before. I am here for you. They don't understand...they are part of it as much as you, as lost in this all as you are. I see you from the outside...and the inside Sydney...and what I see is beyond strong, beyond beautiful. Without better words at my disposal, even considering my vividly advanced vocabulary...all I can say is that...you are you, Sydney. Nobody else compares." He really did love her, and finally he felt it wasn't something he had to prove.

"Tell me what you need, my angel...and it will be yours." He meant every word of that request, as the tip of his index finger tickled the plane of her cheek, softly. He was devoted to the woman, the legend of his admiration for her felt with every breath he took.

She smiled at him softly, tears of happiness falling from her eyes unchecked as she absorbed the wonder and truth of his words. He really did love her. All her life, she had wanted this..., wanted to feel this way. Loved by someone unconditionally, without having to give them lies to explain her whereabouts, as she had with Danny. To love someone where there were no lies between them, as there had been with Vaughn. To just be happy, and in love, with no worries for the outside world.

She looked up into his eyes, as he caressed her face, and gently smiled at him. "I love you, Julian...so much that it almost frightens me."

She burrowed her head against his shoulder and chuckled. "Am I really your angel, Sark?" She said with a grin as she looked up at him.

"I need you...that's it. That all I need...is you. To be with you, be loved by you...to love you. That's all I need." She reached up, cupping his face with her hands as she gently kissed him. "All I need is you."

"No Sydney, you're more than my angel...you're AN angel...but I feverantly hope to one day be able to call you my own." Sark spoke sweet whispers in her ear, which in his English accent sounded so stimulating and naughtily around the jagged edges of what he had to say.

"If I am all that it is you need, then you are not without which you seek. I am yours in any way you dream or conspire Sydney, all yours. Just yours. Take whatever you want from me. Take my heart and do with it what you will. It's the one thing I have never given to anybody else. It's yours Sydney...take it." The extent of Sark's passion and devotion towards Sydney seemed to know no bounds, and the fact that he related it so poetically and was capable of translating it this sweetly, just made the world stop moving and everything in it cease to exist.

With that, Sark lightly held her soft cheek in the cluster of his snowy palm, thumbing the tear that swam there, and then kissed the tear that fell down her other cheek. Immediately after, Julian began kissing Sydney on the lips softly, without tongue, humming at the back of his throat with pleasure. He then ran his hand through her beautiful, silky hair, cherishing every strand that glided between his fingers. His face so close to hers, he began to talk.

"Sydney...I do not want you to make the wrong decision. Until you love me...until you know I love you...until you know I would never do anything to hurt you and all I want is to adore you for the rest of my life...I will be patient Sydney. Rushing is wasted on fated lovers." It was hard for Sark, and quite literally as well, to resist making love to this woman right now and injecting her soul with the passion and love he had for her, kissing away her pain, healing her broken heart. But he did...and he did it for her.

She smiled softly, tears of happiness falling from her eyes at his words. "Julian," she whispered. "Don't you know? I already do know...do trust you. Right now, you're the only one I trust. My whole world is a lie, except for you. Its like living in a world of darkness, with a single light to sustain me. You are that light, Julian. Don't you know that?"

She kissed him gently, softly...not pressing for anything, just a melding of their mutual feelings for each other. Feelings that had been denied too vehemently for too long. She looked up at him, smiling as she took his hand to her breast, right above her heart. "Do you feel that, Julian? The beating beneath my breast? It beats for you...only for you." She said softly as she kissed him again, and felt him wrap his arms around her, bringing her closer to him, so that every inch of their bodies touched. "I love you." She said softly, and with conviction, as she opened her arms, and gave herself up to him...the man she loved.

He really wanted to tell her how much he'd wanted to hear those words cross her lips, and for how long, but he couldn't. He couldn't, simply because the need to become one with her outweighed any other, at this point, that was all that mattered to him.

Lifting her top over her head, Julian quickly began wetly kissing the tender, sensitive areas of her neck, gently, even before the top was completely off. His right hand cleverly tickled at her ear, while his other hand embraced her hip tenderly. He only wished he had more hands so that he may feel more of her in his grasp...and more so so he was able to unclothe himself. But right now touching her was more important, but the struggle of his hand's focus was very apparent to him at this point.

"Sydney...you are so fucking beautiful. I would give you the world...but you would have no use for it...you are a world Sydney...you are my world." He said, as smoothly as silk flowing against a gentle breeze, and it was beautiful, like heaven singing to her ears alone.

Now he lay on top of her, his elbows at her sides supporting his own body weight, as he grazed himself over her in short, slow but strong thrusts. His lust for her ebbed powerfully from his loins, he could literally feel the energy of his libido screaming out for her, needing her, wanting her, wanting to be given to her.

He took her hand sophisticatedly and lowered it to his groin, causing it to brush sternly against the soft, defined skin of his torso on the way down. He left her hand to it's own devices once it reached the domain of his manhood, and looked at her deeply in the eye.

"Do you feel that Sydney...how my blood flows for you and only you? The fire in my veins because I'm with you? For the first time in my life, you have made me want to be a bigger man." His intimacy was devouringly intoxicating, like pure unadulterated sex in vocal form, how could anyone resist the melted butteryness of Sark as a lover?

She nodded slowly and profoundly at Sark's words. "You don't need to be a better man, Julian. You just need to be you. That's all I want, all I need." She said as she gently kissed his shoulder, wrapping her legs around him, wanting to bring all of him inside her, as he glided through her, joining not only their bodies, but their souls, as well.

She lifted her lips to his, and kissed him with all the passion and love she felt burning inside of her. He moaned against her mouth, as she deepened the kiss, and wrapped her arms around him. "Oh, Sark..." she whispered.

She opened her eyes, and looked into his own deep pools of blue.

"How could I have been so stupid for so long? How could I have not known?" She asked both him, and herself, as the feelings inside her began to take control.

She loved this man, not Nikolai...never Nikolai. He was a safe substitute for the one she had always loved, but never thought she could have.

Looking at her now, so fascinating and precious underneath him, welcoming his lust deeply inside of her, Julian couldn't help but feel in his every molecule, exactly how beautiful Sydney was, like this, with him, one with him. For some reason he knew she never looked like this to Nikolai...but not because she was less beautiful with him...instead because he could never make her feel this way, like she was a Goddess, his brother loved her but could never make her know without a doubt that she was his everything. But then no other man in the world could see Sydney as their everything as much as Julian did.

Slowly and without harsh force, Sark elegantly slid in and out of Sydney with such effortlessness and grace, there was no selfishness about it, no primal urge to cum hard, this was just about love, feeling it, making it, having it, showing it, sharing it. He felt like he was swimming inside her...and she was made of waters that Julian felt special in. He smiled at her, not smirked, as he expressed light sounds of bliss from the back of his talented throat...he was happy. With his eyes closed softly over, eyelids trembling with the sensations Sydney's welcoming body delivered to his very being, he began to speak to her again.

"Could I...possibly...be any more...in love with you?" Julian managed to grunt, through amidst controlled thrusts and mouth wateringly stimulating breaths. It wasn't really a question though, but more of a statement, that much was obvious.

"I could make love to you for an eternity. Unsheathed inside you, I feel at home...nothing else matters...nothing but you Sydney...no one but you."

"I know," she softly whispered. "I feel the same way."

She gasped with pleasure and happiness as he slid deeper, and deeper inside of her, every inch of her body consumed by him, needing him, crying out for him...this one man, her Julian.

She arched her back in pleasure, love flowing through her veins, as she started to climb. Wrapping her arms and legs tighter around him, she continued to gasp, wanting to savour every inch of him, wanting to climb further with him.

She would never tire of him, of this need inside her that cried out for him, and no other. Not even Danny had touched her like this, an all consuming need to possess and be possessed equally.

She cried out his name, as sweat dripped from her brow, and every inch of her flesh. She opened her eyes, and looked at him, smiling happily, even as her body screamed for release. She never knew making love could feel so perfect, so wonderful, so...heavenly. But with him it was. Because she knew with every fibre of her being that he loved her, just as much as she loved him. There were no lies between them, no secrets to be revealed. Just their need for each other, and an overwhelming love.

"Julian...oh, Julian..." she softly whispered. "I will love you until the day I die."

What felt like a lifetime of hard work has passed, and if it weren't for their almost inhuman need to intertwine their sexual loins, Julian Sark and Sydney Bristow would be exasperated and making vast efforts to remedy their depleted energy. Although their skin was excessively moist with primal sweat, from the vigorous love making they had dedicated their bodies to mutually, each of the lovers were still hot to the touch, in fact that their body head was so vast, that it seemed surreal, like their skin was burning. Perhaps it was trying to burn everything else away, the world around it, so that they could stay like this, physically bonded eternally, without risk of interruption.

"Are you...there? Are you...with me...Sydney. Together?" Julian's breezed warmly over Sydney's delicate face in a blazing flush, uncovering his desire for them to climax together, not that it was any secret, it was one thing that never left his mind with every moment in his day, even now when it was an achievable feat.

Julian's surprisingly manly weapon, given his boyish offbeat charm and body type, felt as though it was being wrapped continuously in pools of viscous, radiant Heaven. If he were anyone else, he wouldn't be able to contain himself inside the liquid laden splendour that was Sydney's unparalleled womanhood.

"Sydney...I love you so...so much." Sark affirmed, through deeply compulsive thrusts, his entire being obviously in a state of intense, potent, wild passion. "Does my love make you feel whole, Sydney? Does it...does it make you feel...feel...as beautiful as you are. Fuck Sydney I love you." Julian's mind was drowned in blissful thoughts of Sydney, quite clearly intoxicating to him, and without remedy.

She nodded frantically at his words, speech impossible, as she gently held his face in her hands, looking deeply into his eyes...all the way to his soul. "Yes, Julian...everything about you makes me feel whole...and your love...our love...it just lifts me higher than I ever thought possible."

She was drowning in him, as their bodies moved together in a perfect rhythm, as they each reached closer to the edge. She cried out his name, as he dove inside her, and she dug her fingers in to the sweaty flesh of his back.

She looked up at him, her body overcome with its coming climax, as she felt herself tighten around him, as he came inside of her. They cried out each others name, and how much they loved each other, in the same moment, as their bodies continued to throb with their climax, as well as their always present need for each other.

He fell beside her on the bed, cradling her in his arms, as she tried to catch her breath, as she traced her fingertips along his chest. "I love you, Julian...I love you so much," she whispered as tears of joy fell from her eyes. She tightened her arms around him, as she felt him place a gentle kiss on her brow.

After years of searching, after years of hoping, and wondering. Sydney Bristow finally knew what it meant to be loved, and to truly love someone in return. And she revelled in that newfound knowledge, and her intense feelings for the man beside her.

Around an hour or more later after Julian and Sydney had ventured into her bedroom at the obscurely located villa they were staying at, they returned downstairs after tending to each other in the shower, fresh and with clear, rested and recharged minds. Julian saw the silent resentment and defeatedness in his brothers eyes, and he did not yet want to antagonise it, so instead he simply gave a knowing shrug of sorts, and then for a moment, shifted his eyes to the ground in mild guilt.

"As you can see...I have put Sydney's mind at ease. She is now seeing things clearly, for what they indeed are, as opposed to how her eagerness to blame and act out blindly masked her understanding of the immediate circumstances." Irena, Jack and even Nikolai did not seem too happy with Julian at all, in spite of the favour he had done them by bringing Sydney around to the side she should be on. But then, he expected this sort of bitterness from them at first, because of his brotherly betrayal of Nikolai. "Since you don't find it apt now, you can thank me later." Sark quipped, comically, in a rare bout of light expression.

"This is it Sydney...us...the only resistance against The Order...the only ones who have the abilities and knowledge enough to bring them down directly. There is no returning to the CIA...and while The Order exists as it has for decades, there is no real CIA to return to. There is no going back to anything any of us had before...the time has been coming for the collision of forces between ourselves and them...and the time is now. Your place is with us Sydney...do you take it?" Sark shone light on some truths that were ultimately and immediately effective in Sydney's situation.

Jack and Irena, looking more like a married couple than Sydney had ever even in her wildest musterings of her imagination thought possible, looked on to their daughter with eyes that begged to hear a fortunate answer. It was hard to tell what emotions infested Nikolai's spirit at this point, on one hand he seemed to be sighing with relief for the truth being bared, while on the other he seemed remorseful in wake of certain things that he had now lost because the deception had ended. The atmosphere however, was for the first time for more than a day, neutral in feeling.

She took a deep breath as she sat down, and observed her parents and Nikolai. So many emotions were churning inside her, that she really didn't know what to think, how to feel or act towards them anymore. But one thing was apparent. They were all on the same side. She had taken an oath to fight for the greater good, and if this was the only way to it, she would do what was asked of her. She would do what must be done.

She sighed, and stood up, addressing her parents, and her former love. "I have accepted the danger of the Order, and that banding together is our only hope in defeating them. I have also accepted that Dixon was a part of the very evil I swore to destroy. No matter how painful that is for me, I cant change the truth, or the past. So, I'm in."

She looked at her parents as they rose, moving to embrace her. She took a step back from them, keeping them at bay. "No. Just because I have agreed to this, and accepted it as necessary, that doesn't extend to either of you. You have lied to me too steadily for too long. I know you say you were protecting me..." She shook her head, in disgust. "But the fact is that your silence could have cost me my life. The very life you swore you were protecting. So, don't ask anything of me. As of this moment, our relationship is purely professional. I am no longer your daughter, but your colleague."

She took a deep breath, to steady herself. "I am sorry, but if you want my cooperation, that's how it has to be."

She looked back to Julian, and smiled. "I'm ready."

With that final statement from Sydney's tested lips, she and Sark shared a moment that would be lost in time forever, but one that bared more weight than they realised, together searching the scenery granted to their eyes by the open window of the villa adjacent to them.

Elsewhere, but at that very same moment, those that Sydney's band of resistance now lived to oppose were sharing their own moments together.

"So let me get this straight...they killed our men...AND escaped with their lives, successfully bringing in Sydney to their fold...without even so much as an injury?" A familiar sounding, yet not too identifiable male voice asked, leaving the once trusted but now inexcusably deceitful Hayden Chase to answer.

"Almost. All but Sydney left without injury...with her particular moral standing, trust issues and already meagre family values...I assure you that Miss Bristow has become quite the walking time bomb. The girl will be a wreck...rendered useless to their cause. As you know, the only way they could stand any chance against us, is if..." Hayden was rudely interrupted, but did not struggle against it, which meant that obviously, the voice which spoke to her belonged to a power she happily bowed down to.

"Yes Miss Chase, I'm all too aware of what can and can not happen, and why." He paused to offer Hayden a slight explanation as to why he had chosen to interrupted. "In depths like this, walls have ears. That being the case, the mentionable becomes the unmentionable...wouldn't you agree?", to which Hayden nodded, making evident that she knew better than to challenge this ominous man's logic.

"I assure you...I will gut Sydney Bristow like the flailing emotional fish that she is, and before I do that, I'll force her to watch on as I painfully destroy the people she holds dearly. She killed my son. That bitch will pay with interest." Hayden, darkly determined, professed to her superior, a savage look of madness held solidly in her wicked eyes.

"After all this time of knowing you Miss Chase...I've learnt better than to imagine otherwise." He replied.

As Hayden began to walk away, the person she had spoken to brought her to an abrupt halt, just as she reached the door, demanding that she answer one last question. "Miss Chase. One last thing. Has Sydney become aware of the baby?"

Turning back around to face her master, Hayden's eyes crossed over all of the Rambaldi artefacts Sydney had helped who she believed to be the CIA to obtain, drinking in the power of what each oh them meant, before finally looking her superior in the face one last time, to answer him.

"No...no Kendall she doesn't.", to which he grinned mercilessly, his hands joined together in gesture true to the soul of a genuinely wicked and calculated man, his authoritive chair positioned in the centre of this room filled with lies and the tools of Rambaldi's prophecies.

"Good." Was his simple and final retort.

--

END


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